


The Icarus Theory

by fragileizy



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, I Love You, LadyNoir - Freeform, Marichat, There's always a happy ending, buckle up everyone!!, but of course there's a happy ending, i'm your host - Freeform, including for marinette, marichat angst? yes. absolutely, safe spaces are good for everyone, this author doesn't really know how to use the new tagging system, welcome aboard to another marichat hurt fic, you think i? me? wouldn't give a happy ending?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-25 04:03:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 34,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16653919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fragileizy/pseuds/fragileizy
Summary: Chat Noir and Marinette fall in love.It doesn't stay so simple.In which Chat Noir has some theories about love called The Icarus Theory.About how Icarus fell in love with the ocean that swallowed him alive after he was rejected by the sun. (And some other things.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Oh baby! Guess who's back and kicking? That's right-- me!!  
> I worked on this story for a couple of months now... and I'm so glad I can finally share it with you all!
> 
> I even made a playlist for it on [youtube!](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLNXbk8peU1w4tJDm57TpnJXnbgK57Jaky)  
> I couldn't help myself-- I just had to. I've never made a playlist for a fic before... but I still hope you enjoy it!

 

_Icarus drowns in this story, too._

_But this isn’t a tragedy--_

_It is filled with light,_

_And forgiveness,_

_And above else--_

_This is the story of Icarus_

_And the many theories that come_

_with being the boy that dared to love_

_The sun_

 

Adrien remembered the first time he had heard of the myth of Icarus and Daedalus. He was in middle school, in history class, passing notes to his deskmate Nino about what they were going to do after school that day. History class had always been Adrien’s least favorite subject-- he didn’t _care._ He never had the patience to learn about humans and their endless turmoil with war and death. Well. It wasn’t that he didn’t care-- but rather-- he didn’t enjoy hearing about people suffering. He didn’t like learning about people dying in wars. He didn’t like hearing about pain and suffering. Adrien would usually perk up to hear the history of Ladybug and Chat Noir in their adventures in the past, but usually anything else would just make him block out the rest of the class. Maybe that was one of the bad traits he had gotten from his dad-- lack of empathy for something he genuinely wished it didn’t exist. He wished that pain didn’t exist for those in the past.

But the story of Icarus had been something that caught Adrien’s interest.

It wasn’t history, of course, and instead it was  _mythology--_ and Adrien enjoyed mythology. He liked hearing explanations for the appearances and disappearances of the miraculouses in ways that he had never even imagined. Mythology was always a land of wonder and speculation, one of Adrien’s many favorite things. And, in a way, Mythology made sense to him. For people who didn’t know the power of miraculouses, the disappearances of Ladybug and Chat Noir were omens. The rise and fall of creation and destruction. It was never one or the other-- it was both at the same time. Ladybug and Chat Noir would always reappear and disappear together. It was a continuous cycle-- and it was never broken. Mythology was interesting for Adrien.

Ladybug and Chat Noir were considered the original titans in Greek mythology. The original oracles. They brought visions of the future-- of the past-- with blood between their lips and hope in their eyes. Sometimes these titans failed. But sometimes, Ladybug and Chat Noir were beyond humans. They were the original omens. The original oracles. The original  _titans._ Beings that didn’t make sense to mortal humans but they pretended like they understood-- beings that hid as normal civilians in the cover of daylight. Beings that created and constructed items out of their bare hands and made land rise from oceans and fortified mountain ranges to be impenetrable. Beings that destroyed and caused volcanoes to erupt and land to split and flattened mountains. The myths of Ladybug and Chat Noir were  _very_ interesting to Adrien.

And the myth of Icarus was no different.

Icarus and Daedalus had been imprisoned in a contraption called The Labyrinth for  _years,_ nearly going mad from staying in there for too long. Adrien couldn’t imagine just how terrified they were to be in this labyrinth that had monsters and terrors lurking at every corner. The father and son had eventually escaped, using some sort of honey… or maybe wax… and a multitude of feathers to make their arms into large wings. Adrien had been captivated by the story of Daedalus telling his son to not fly too high in the sky or his wings might melt off and he’d fall into the ocean and drown. At the time, Adrien hadn’t understood why Icarus would ignore his father’s warnings and take to the sky, hands reaching for the sun.

Until now. He knew exactly why Icarus had been willing to drown reaching for the sun. It was the same reason as to why  _Adrien_ had reached for the sun.

And, to be honest, the moon-- whoever the moon was-- would’ve been kinder to him. To him  _and Icarus._

If Adrien had been given the choice, and he had fallen in love with the moon, the moon wouldn’t had let Adrien fall out of grace from heaven without even batting an eye. The moon wouldn’t had let him crash into the ocean. The moon wouldn’t had let him drown.  _The moon wouldn’t had let him drown._ He under no circumstance blamed the sun-- the sun had every right to decline his offer of love. Adrien knew that. But the resulting fallout...

the moon wouldn’t had let him drown from it. The moon would’ve been there for him-- attentive and curious-- wondering why a mere  _mortal_ like himself was so inspired to fall in love with such a heavenly creature that he would risk everything for them. Icarus was right in attempting to be one with the gods. The moon wouldn’t have burned Adrien with her response. The moon would’ve been softer about it, maybe-- perhaps let him down more gently. But as Adrien’s luck would have it-- he hadn’t fallen in love with the representation of the moon. Oh, no. He had fallen in love with the representation of the sun.

The sun.

And nothing--  _nothing_ in life could compare to the sheer wonder it was to be in love with the sun. The gravity of his adoration to her was unbearable. The beauty and grace of hers that was incomparable. The parchness he felt to know what it was like to be with her was inimitable. The power that Ladybug had in her body… the living incarnation of creation-- what better way than to compare her with the sun? Creation. The sun was also creation. Ladybug was the  _sun._ The scorching, blistering light from her beautiful quick-witt that he could feel like actual heat on his skin-- piercing through his suit whenever they met. How her eyes were so sharp and calculative that it could blind his own if he kept up the eye contact. But wouldn’t it be worth it if he was as heavenly as her? Wouldn’t it be worth it  _to be her equal?_ Wouldn’t it be worth all the risk of losing part of himself? Wouldn’t it be worth it to see if he had even a  _minute_ chance of being with her? Chat Noir believed yes. A thousand times yes. Yes.

Yes.

He would’ve willingly had given anything to be with the sun. Had it been his own life, he would have done it-- there had been numerous,  _countless_ times where he had protected Ladybug with his life to the point where his injuries would still carry over when he detransformed. A bruised rib-- or a harsh cut on his back from making sure Ladybug hadn’t been slashed with a sword. The back of his head still bruised from having his hair fisted in an inescapable grasp from an Akuma. All of these things were worth it to keep the sun safe. It was all worth it to be with her. It was all worth the pain and longing he felt, if it kept her safe and secure. After all, Paris ideally only needed one superhero-- and as much as the two  _were_ a duo, it looked like somehow Ladybug was the only one who could cure the city after an attack. Chat Noir had nothing of that. And to keep the sun safe… it was all he needed.

But the sun hadn’t agreed.

She-- Ladybug-- had told him that she couldn’t agree with him on his love-- that she loved someone else. And above all else, Chat Noir understood. Somehow. Chat understood. Regardless of how deep and unrelenting his love had pitted into his stomach, her decline was understandable-- and he didn’t hold the sun accountable for how… clipped he felt. He didn’t hold her accountable for how it felt like the floor had been pulled out from underneath him. Like someone had woken him up from a dream. But it wasn’t her fault. Adrien didn’t blame her. If anything, it was his own fault. He shouldn’t had fallen in love so hard-- so defiant-- so unbelievably  _vulnerable--_ with someone he knew he couldn’t be in love with. The sun was in love with someone else. And now, he was being consumed whole by the ocean, shockfuls of water entering his throat. And he’d be the first one to admit-- drowning wasn’t as peaceful like everyone tried to make it seem. It was violent and selfish-- it was _tormentive--_ like he was swallowing lungfuls of his own self-pity. He knew that he was making this into more and more into a big deal. So what if the epitome of life… of  _creation_ didn’t like him? Surely a normal person would’ve gotten back up after falling and moved on. But the ocean…  _oh the ocean…_

He had fallen into the waiting arms of the water. Of Marinette.  _Marinette._ His classmate. His friend that he was convinced that he had done something morally wrong to, because she never looked at him. The girl in class who barely got sentences around him--  _Adrien_ him-- without stammering and making faces at herself and excusing herself to go the bathroom. On multiple occasions she had turned down the hall the moment they had made eye contact with one another at school-- and it was painful in a way that Adrien had never been accustomed to. It burned in a different way that he had never experienced. Did she hate him? Did Marinette refuse to look at him in the eyes because of guilt for calling him a bully when they had first met? Marinette. The girl who had unknowingly become the stars and heavens and planets and the divine for him. The girl who had unknowingly become the ocean and water and harbor to him.  _Marinette._

The girl who was watering her plants when he-- as Chat Noir-- was busy running through the rooftops trying to tire out his crackling heart-- and trying to force out his shoulders into bruising up as if some vital part of him had been torn off. Marinette had looked so concerned for him-- spray bottle full of water dropping out of her hand instantly when he approached her on her balcony-- comforting him when his tears slid down his cheeks like hot wax. Her hands felt cold against the nape of his neck where she held him from, angling his head onto her shoulder, and he sank into her hug, dampening the side of her shirt with hiccups. Why had he picked Marinette to talk to? Marinette didn’t like  _Adrien._ She almost ignored him whenever he initiated conversation-- so why did he, as Chat Noir, force himself onto her like this? Why did he come to her? Surely if he ever attempted to talk to her at school and slipped up, Marinette would hate him more, right? So why did he wrap his arms around her and cry for ages into her shoulder-- why did she let him? Why did Marinette Dupain-cheng, his classmate,  _let him?_ Why did it seem so right for him to come up to her that fateful day and talk about his problems to her? And how come Marinette couldn’t stop  _apologizing,_ like all of this could be  _fixed?_

More and more, as the weeks went by, did he stray further away from the sun. He no longer reached his arm out to her for help as he fell. As he _drowned._ And, well-- drowning never did feel so good as it did when looking at what could’ve been-- looking at Ladybug whenever they fought akumas together. When they hugged. When they said their goodbyes and parted ways. Ladybug continuously had that look on her face that said  _I’m so sorry. I can see that you’re beating yourself up about this-- I can see your sunken face-- I can see the dimness in your eyes-- how your physical being acts as if it’s been crystallized by all the salinity piling up in your soul from the lungfuls of saltwater you’ve inhaled while you drowned--_ and Chat Noir knew that he couldn’t let her feel accountable for this. This was all  _his_ fault, not hers. So he’d smile, give her a wink, tell her that there was no harm done. Ladybug didn’t deserve to know that he was still drowning. That wouldn’t be fair to her. And besides, if drowning meant that Marinette was the ocean… he didn’t mind that.

No, he didn’t mind that at all.

Marinette had accepted him-- Chat Noir him-- with her cold open arms, a bedroom to hide in together, a plateful of food and a multitude of blankets for the both of them to keep to themselves. And they hid there together nearly every night after his patrols, the two of them hiding in her bed away from the world, whispering thoughts and ideas with one another. It was there he felt safe. It was there that he could just lay down-- stretch out, buried deep in the harbor of Marinette’s arms, and close his eyes and pretend that everything in his life was solved. He’d take deep breaths of Marinette’s lavender scent-- scrunch his eyes closed to the point where he could see stars behind his eyelids-- and pretend that they could stay in this position forever. And by the gods and heavens-- he  _wanted_ to. He  _wanted_ to be with Marinette-- beautiful divine Marinette-- with eyes as sharp as the spray of waves and as blue as the horizon. It was there, in her arms, that he discovered that Marinette was more like the ocean than he had ever been let on to believe. Her opinions were sharp, and on multiple occasions Chat Noir felt that she could potentially crack mountains if she ever got into heated debates with someone. It was almost breathtaking to realize that he wasn’t the only one capable of leveling mountains. Marinette had embraced him with open arms, and he would be forever grateful. If this was drowning? Falling in love with the ocean? If _this_ was what happened if he dared to love the sun? He didn’t mind drowning.

No, he didn’t mind drowning at all.

 

* * *

 

_‘Did Icarus regret the fall?’_

_‘Of course not,’_ the ocean laughed, her voice hoarse and tightly wound.

_‘Icarus never regretted falling. Why would he? Drowning was comfortable._

_Drowning was natural._

_And above all things, drowning was a mortal thing.’_

_-For gods do not die to become themselves_

 

“What are you like without the suit?” Marinette pulled the covers back in order to get in. Everything was ready for bed, and she couldn’t wait any longer for it. It was her favorite part of the day to snuggle up to Chat Noir, pull him close to her with the covers over their faces, and fall asleep. It was habit now. What started out as a simple sensory experiment for Chat’s anxiety somehow became a crutch for both of them, and now it was nearly impossible to sleep unless something was covering her face. She felt so safe in his arms, and so peaceful, that she could probably sleep for years in whatever position they ended up in throughout the night. If only school didn’t exist. And Hawkmoth. If everything had been alright in the world, she’d pluck Chat Noir right off the street the moment she made eye contact with him and would drag him into bed with her for some cuddling that spanned the entirety of their life.

She loved this particular patterned sheet that was on her bed, so she was careful with it by smoothing out the soft wrinkles, and pulling spare lint off between her fingers. Marinette hooked a hand on Chat Noir’s large wrists to join her. It was nearly dark when they both climbed into bed-- she had most of the lights off, too, so it was easier on Chat Noir’s eyes to see. He had complained a couple of months ago that harsh light made his eyes hurt, and that he preferred dimmer lighting when he was in the suit. It’s probably because his eyes kept reflecting light so he could see better in the dark, and that created a whole new set of problems now. She hadn’t known he could see  _that_ well in the dark. Oops. What if she had done something super embarrassing under the cover of night, thinking Chat couldn’t see her, but he  _totally could?_ Also, she couldn’t imagine just how much pain he must have been in whenever they fought akumas outside in broad daylight.

“What do you mean by ‘what am I like’?”

“You know what I mean, kitty. Tell me about your personality!”

He gave her a grin that was full of teeth, sharp canines--  _felines?--_ that would’ve glinted perfectly in brighter light and it would’ve  _looked_ predatory if it wasn’t for the fact that Marinette knew him. She knew him. She knew  _Chat Noir._ She knew everything about him except for his  _name._ Which meant that she knew where exactly to pet him in his hair to get a rumbly noise curl out from his chest, and it also meant that she knew just how to massage his shoulders to get him to become putty in her hands. Chat Noir was insanely malleable when he was in his cuddly moods-- which was almost always and she  _loved it--_ so it was so easy to get him to lay on her like a pressure blanket if she wanted him to. And wow, did she  _want_ him to. Chat Noir was the most wonderful bedmate. His weight and his purring and the softness of his hair and lips on her cheeks and brow bone were so comforting and familiar… she knew  _everything_ about him. And that grin of his was playful and contagious-- if she kept looking at it, Marinette knew she was going to start smiling back at him. He collapsed on the bed with her, making sure to take off his boots with a click of two hidden buttons on the back of the ankle, keeping them close to  _‘his’_ side of the bed-- he had royally decreed it was his side by the fourth month of him showing up continuously every night-- and in case he had to run off to an akuma, his shoes were still accessible.

Chat Noir sighed as he got comfortable on  _‘his’_ pillow (also decreed), the cat printed one that she usually kept wrapped around at the top of her bed-- and he looked so comical in the way that his shoulders were so  _broad_ now and he looked so much  _older_ after the two years they’ve been together but he looked so  _cute_ wrapped up in blue fabric of her blanket and about a foot away from her. Marinette huffed to herself, eyeing the large gap of space between them. So she tucked her body close to his, her fingers digging into the smoothness of the hexleather material that made up his suit. She could feel the oven-heat warmth coming through his material, proving to herself that Chat Noir was indeed an actual human being with a real life outside the walls of her room-- that he had a  _family,_ that he had a room that he slept in when he couldn’t make it to hers for the night... Sometimes it was easy to forget that Chat Noir was someone outside this room and these walls-- that Chat Noir was someone entirely different underneath the thin material of his mask. She was so used to associating Chat with the comfort and safety of her bed, it was sometimes hard differentiating between the two. Her bed and Chat Noir were the perfect places to rest against. In this position, tightly packed into him like a squished sardine, she could even feel his ribs pushing against her body as he breathed and thrummed. A real person  _indeed._ “As a civilian, I’m really quiet.”

“Really?” She snorted. Why did Chat even bother to lie to her at this point?

“I’m serious!”

“How are you possibly quiet as a civilian?” She didn’t bother moving her head up to look at him, because she was perfectly content having her head underneath his chin. Chat pulled the blanket over their head, lacing their legs together, and it felt so familiar having the hexleather material stick to her thighs as they got ever closer. Even his feet were covered by the material-- and Marinette couldn’t even imagine what it was like to sleep with something covering her feet. She liked sleeping sockless and pantless (although with Chat around, shorts were a  _must_ unless they wanted some accidents), thanks. He used his elbow to hold up the fabric like a pitched tent, just enough for her to breathe a little bit before he pulled it completely over their faces so they could enjoy their time together completely blocking out the elements around them. It was habit, and wonderful to experience the softness of this sensory experiment with him. She liked closing her eyes into pure darkness and listening to the slow crawl of Chat’s heartbeat.

Chat Noir laughed, low in his throat. “I gotta keep up my appearances somehow, Princess. Can’t let the whole world know that I’m secretly Chat Noir. So I try not to talk so often outside the suit. I can guarantee you that I’d be making puns left and right if left alone to my own devices.”

“I can’t imagine you being quiet.”

He hummed, deep, and Marinette felt all jittery when his voice tickled her cheek that was up against his chest. “Sure you can, Marinette, you see me do it all the time… And, well, it’s rough being so quiet. Sometimes it makes me want to pull my hair out. I want to joke with you all the time!”

What  _was_ Chat Noir without his ridiculous jokes and silly gestures? Marinette had a hard time picturing the boy not making jokes every ten seconds flat. Chat Noir liked to be quiet sometimes, though, when he was soaking in alone time away from his house. Like he was trying to recharge himself. But it didn’t really bother her-- she didn’t really mind the quietness from him when he had his eyes closed. It was when Chat’s eyes were open and he was quiet--  _that’s_ when it was worrying.  Whenever he got into fights with his father, he’d usually show up just wanting to crash on her bed, or lay down next to her while Marinette was doodling away in her notebook-- or doing homework. Sometimes he would even help her if he had the energy to. Mental energy, that is. He was bursting with physical energy all the time whenever she saw him when he was happy: leg jiggling, his tail miraculously flicking back and forth as if it was an actual tail, or his hexsteel claws drumming on some hard surface in her room to create infuriatingly annoying tapping noises.

She didn’t fault him for it though, Marinette knew first-hand that being in the suit caused such nourishment of physical energy-- something equivalent to an adrenaline rush but even  _more_ powerful-- in her body as Ladybug that sometimes she felt like she was entering a heart attack if she stood still. It’s what made her so notoriously fast and quick-footed as Ladybug, and why her yo-yo would spin so quickly. How could Chat just sit still and enjoy his power coursing through his body when he was Chat and not a normal human being? Marinette had tried sitting down for a bit as Ladybug and her heart was ready to leap out of her throat from how overwhelmed it was. Surely Ladybug’s and Chat Noir’s suits and powers were similar, right? How did he do it? How did he not succumb to the massive weight of being on a brink of a panic attack-- or the crushing weight of  _having to defend the entirety of the nation_ while in the suit that strained in some places and was elastic in others-- as if their entire superhero history was like a warped modern tale of  _Atlas,_ the man who held up the entire weight of the  _sky?_ She always felt a vague sense of claustrophobia in the suit, knowing that she could create anything just by her fingertips… It was somewhat of a miracle knowing that Chat Noir could stay still and even  _sleep_ while being under his kwami’s power. She envied him for being so comfortable with all of that strength. She was collapsing over and over every single day over the responsibility. But Chat noir seemed to look like he had everything under control.

How? How did he accomplish that? Maybe it was a  _little_ bit different-- maybe her powers manifested within her  _differently_ than Chat Noir’s did. The power of destruction? Maybe it just made him tired all the time instead of making him jumpy like it did to her, trying to keep all of his power in check. It made sense as to why every time she saw him as Ladybug, Chat looked closer and closer to a peaceful coma with his dulling eyes and sluggish smile. Maybe he actually was really  _lethargic_ and just moved because he had to protect the city. Maybe it  _wasn’t_ because of the fact that she had broken his heart so severely that Chat Noir didn’t bother putting up facades. Every time he came over to Marinette’s house, his eyes were half-lidded with the attempt to sleep, so maybe he  _was_ indeed a lazy cat. “Do you have friends who help you with that? Talking to you at school?”

“No, not really. Well, I have a couple of friends… but… not in the way I wish I did. I’m really shy without the mask. And I’m still trying to keep a low profile.” He sighed in a content manner when she traced the hexleather along his shoulder line with her fingers. Marinette wondered what it would be like to feel his actual collarbone without feeling the grippiness of the suit underneath her fingertips. The grip of the suit was just tacky enough to let him stick to walls if he needed to, but still slick enough to get him out of strong grapples. “Sometimes when I see you, though, I can get through the day. Knowing that I’ll be able to see you later at night makes it all worth it.”

Marinette knew that Chat Noir and her went to the same school. He had told her after a month of their whatever-this-relationship-was, pulling out his hair in hysterics one night, telling her that he felt so guilty for having to lie to her about who he was. Marinette had managed to shush him and comfort him before he had given way-too-vital information away-- it wouldn’t have been fair for him to give away his identity to her. Especially since, well, Marinette was  _Ladybug._ Chat Noir had managed to tell her that their physics class together was something that he looked forward to every week, and Marinette had been quick to stop him from delving more information, even though she wanted so much to know more.  _So_ much more. It pained her to know that she couldn’t comfort him in his civilian self. But-- it made sense as to why he was always in the vicinity of the akuma attacks around Paris whenever she was, too-- they lived close enough in the same locations. They went to the same  _school._ Maybe even had _multiple_ classes together, not just physics. She hadn’t let him say it. She couldn’t do that to him.

It also made sense as to how Chat was able to come over after school so quickly sometimes-- even after leaving class as fast as possible, sometimes he would be in her room faster than she would be. Did that mean he transformed at school? Would he  _run_ here? Either way, he’d be sitting on her bed, waiting for her, with a silly grin on his face, playing with the stress ball that she kept on her desk. He’d ask her if she knew what was for homework in a class that they had found out that they had class together. Well,  _she_ found out they had class together. Chat Noir knew who she was at school. But she tried not to think about it too much-- their relationship, although never specified, was only inside the walls of her room, and they kept it that way. If they didn’t, everything would… everything would be difficult. Everything would be different. Chat Noir would never trust her again-- and she  _knew_ that-- but she didn’t know what to do… everything would be so difficult if they revealed themselves to each other... So she tried not to think about it too much. Knowing that someone so close to her heart was so impossible to reach was… painful. And sometimes the confession of him being so close to touch at school yet so far out of reach like that made Marinette bite her lip in near hysterics. “I wish I could help you at school.”

“You help me out enough now!” He nuzzled the top of her head with the side of his cheek, letting his elbow fall, arm slinging over her. He let the covers smother the both of them. It was dark underneath the covers without any light, and Marinette imagined what it would be like for her to pull off the covers and somehow see Chat Noir’s civilian self in her bed instead of those bright green eyes in a mask. Would she want to know who this mystery boy was? Of course. Of  _course_ she would. But then again, no. No she wouldn’t. It would make everything entirely complicated-- and they had somehow found a rhythm in this weird situation where the both of them only existed in her room whenever they covered themselves in the blanket. No  _classes._ No  _friends._ No  _parents._ No  _hawkmoth._ No  _screaming akumas._ Just... the both of them together. Marinette and Chat Noir. Plain and sweet.

Besides, it wouldn’t be fair to herself if she found out-- it wouldn’t be fair for Chat, either, who had been scolded by her-- by  _Ladybug--_ that he could never reveal who he really was unless they wanted Hawkmoth targeting their loved ones. Hawkmoth could tear them apart, thread by thread, if he found out that Chat Noir was a normal human being. Who would’ve guessed that someone as precious to her like Chat Noir was an  _actual_ human? A boy with a  _family?_ With  _friends_ that knew Chat for who he was as a civilian? Who had a job that he never talked about to Marinette other than the occasional complaint about how painful it was standing all day? What would happen if Hawkmoth found out that Chat Noir was a simple person? He’d tear his life apart. Ruin every single inch of Chat. Marinette would never let that happen. She  _couldn’t._ And,  _god--_ Marinette couldn’t bear think of the thought of Chat Noir being akumatized. She never even wanted to think about it in  _passing,_ either. “And you do. You’re very nice to me at school. You know-- for someone who doesn’t know who I actually am.”

“I wish I could do more.”

“You do enough, Princess. I promise you. Especially when I get to hold you like this. Being in your bed makes all of my problems go away.” His arm around Marinette’s body tightened, like he was afraid of letting her go because she might disappear. Like he was holding sand between his open fingers, watching all of it dissipate. Like she might be one of his problems.

Well, she  _was_ one of his problems.

 _Ladybug_ was one of his problems. And while Chat Noir had healed a lot from her--  _Ladybug’s--_ rejection, sometimes he’d come in her room with his green eyes so watery that Marinette would drop whatever she was doing to drape the covers over both of them. The covers were significant for the both of them. The time that he had initially showed up on her balcony while she was busy watering her plants in the middle of the night felt almost like a movie-- Chat Noir was sobbing near-to death, his chest heaving and his heartbeat blistering beneath his suit, his hexsteel claws ripped and torn clean off his gloves from how much scratching he’d done throughout the night climbing through the city, crying over heartbreak that  _she herself_ had caused. Oh, Chat Noir. Gods how she wished she could fix his pain...

It had taken a good half hour for him to stop gasping in air like he was in the process of dry-drowning, his tears warm on her fingertips as she wiped his cheeks clean. She had made sure to wash his gloves in her sink, watching dirt and--  _blood?--_ drain off of him, and taking a damp towel over his hexleather to take off any debris--  _more blood? Oh Chat please, have mercy on yourself--_ before pulling the covers on both of them for the first time to see if blocking out sounds and light and colors would help Chat calm down. She had pressed his ear-- the human one, not his suit’s-- onto her chest for him to hear her heartbeat and told him to just  _listen._ It was the start of the tradition, and now Marinette couldn’t fall asleep without the purring Chat did in his sleep and the darkness around her because of the covers. Chat had looked so unbelievably upset that day... Marinette vowed to never let him frown ever again. He never said a word about it when she was Ladybug, but as Marinette-- he would whisper about it to her almost every week. And every night she wanted to tell him-- wanted to scream and should “Hey I’m Ladybug and I  _love_ you, dear god I  _love you,_ dear  _god,”--_ but decided that it wasn’t worth destroying what they had. So they both just hid underneath the covers, ignoring their responsibilities, pretending that nothing in life existed except each other.

“You make all of my problems go away, too.” Marinette muttered into his suit. Chat was quiet then, probably processing that Marinette had problems-- it probably seemed really weird for Chat to know that Marinette had problems. After all, in his eyes, Marinette wasn’t a superhero battling akumas nearly every day while on a massive fight-or-flight high while keeping an insane secret from her own partner. Marinette wasn’t the one who was picking up the pieces of the heart that she  _herself_ broke so badly. But oh, if only he knew. If only he  _knew_ that Marinette never forgave herself for this.

He hummed, low, nearly but not-quite a purr. She wanted to hear that purr. “How was school today?”

Marinette laughed softly, her fingers reaching up into his hair to give him soft scratches behind the ear. The real ear, not his suit. The purr that ripped out of his chest and onto her cheek was exactly what she was looking for, and her eyes closed in a habitual motion. His purrs always got her to fall asleep. She mumbled into his chest, soft, “No, no. We’re  _not_ talking about school or life or anything. We’re underneath the sheets! It’s the unspoken rule to not talk about things that matter. Let’s just go to bed.”

“I didn’t get to talk to you at all today, Princess!” Chat whined, his purring stopping. Marinette groaned when he pulled the covers off of them so she couldn’t say they were breaking the unspoken rule, propping himself up on an elbow, his transfixing eyes oh-so-curious looking down at her in the dim light. They were so reflective now. Maybe if she kept looking, she’d see the entire history of life and creation and destruction in those ancient eyes. Marinette wondered what Chat was thinking, his face blank save for his smile. His hand rested back on her hip, thumming the bare skin that showed between her tank top riding up and her shorts. “Come on, come  _on._ My favorite part of the day is talking to you.  _Chatting_ with you. Hmmm?”

“Oh my god. You’re awful.” Chat  _did_ say that he didn’t usually talk when he was in his civilian form, yeah? Which meant that whatever he did have to say had been rolling around in his head all day, with no one to talk to about it. Not even one friend to talk to? Marinette bit her lip. More and more did she want to help Chat out-- but it would probably cost their entire relationship for her to be friends with him in civilian form. “Alright… alright. But we have to get out of bed to do that. I don’t want any bad thoughts about  _school_ and  _life_ tainting my pillows.”

“Of course,” He gave her another grin, trying to keep his laughter at a minimum. His smile was so perfectly  _Chat_ that Marinette couldn’t help but smile back. They sat on the floor just next to her bed, curled up between the wall and the bedpost. It was their favorite spot to stay in when they were too lazy to go outside on the balcony and talk, or if it was too cold. She’d probably freeze with the tank top and the shorts she had on, anyway, regardless of the furnace of heat coming from Chat Noir’s suit. So they hid in the little corner, Chat’s tail swishing like it was real, Marinette lacing her arms around his closest arm, the coldness of her necklace pressing into her chest.

“School was tough,” She sighed as Chat Noir rested his head on her’s. Marinette wasn’t tall enough for him to rest his head on her shoulder unless he wanted to get a nice crick in the neck. “I had a fight with Chloe today.”

He gave a little snicker, stretching his toes from inside his suit. Marinette watched intently as the hexleather stretched with him. “You always fight with her. One day, there might even be an akuma out of it.”

“It’s not my fault.” Marinette sighed. “She was picking on Adrien again.”

“Really?” Chat Noir hummed, suddenly lacking interest. Marinette knew that Chat Noir didn’t really enjoy hearing about Adrien Agreste that much-- they probably didn’t get along that well in his civilian life. She could tell in the way that Chat’s eyes would dull out when hearing Adrien’s name, or how his eyebrow would raise condescendingly. Like he was  _toying_ with the fact that Adrien existed. It kind of made her feel…  _off._ Marinette had wanted to ask for a while now what the deal was him and Adrien, but something told her that it was way too personal to delve into. That, and it could possibly tip her off as to who was underneath the suit, so she never brought it up. It was a good thing Marinette had never told Chat that she used to have a huge crush on Adrien. Did Adrien ever say something bad to Chat in his civilian form? “Why?”

“Something about his shoes.”

“What? That’s a weird thing to pick on.”

Marinette thumped her palm onto her forehead. “And Adrien walked in on me yelling at her about it. God, it was so embarrassing! I always feel so embarrassed whenever Adrien sees me yelling.”

It had been incredibly embarrassing. She still felt mortified thinking about it, how Chloe’s eyes had widened in alarm when Marinette had gotten up from her seat to tell her to quit picking on people who she didn’t agree with, when Adrien had entered the door. Marinette didn’t bother looking at him in the eyes and quickly left the room after feeling  _insanely_ mortified. No one needed to know that she still had remnants of a crush on him. _Especially_ not Adrien himself.

“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad,” Chat laughed, kissing the top of her head. And-- boy, didn’t it feel nice to feel complete like that? To feel like they had a real romantic relationship that wasn’t based on lying to each other about who they were and who they weren’t? No secrets and no lies? It felt… so natural. And suddenly, Marinette felt parched for more of it. She suddenly very much wanted… to be complete with Chat Noir. Dear gods. Marinette’s head was starting to spin at all problems they could have in the future. “Maybe he didn’t even realize you were talking about him.”

“Yeah, right.” Marinette rolled her eyes. “He had a look in his eyes, Chat! One that clearly said  _I know exactly what you’re talking about!”_

He gave another chuckle, peeling his face off her hair to give her a look. The ancientness in his eyes were glittering. How could a boy that was clearly in her age group also have eyes so soft that looked like he had lived for  _thousands_ of years? “Nah. Probably not. Maybe he just wanted to smile at you because you looked nice today.”

Her lungs deflated with a  _woosh._ Oh… why did that make her feel so happy? “You... think I looked nice today?”

“You always look nice.  _Always.”_ He gave her a look that was both full of adoration and pain. Marinette could see it in the way that he looked almost upset to be smiling at the confession, of the what-could-have-been, in the way that his eyes crinkled at the corners but how his smile was thin. Sometimes it was difficult talking to Chat outside the cocoon of the blankets around them-- they always managed to be more emotional and raw without something covering their faces. Chat sighed to himself, his mask scrunching between his eyebrows like he was... frowning. “I’m sorry I can’t tell you that at school. I really want to… but… you’ll probably figure out who I am immediately…”

She smiled, but it felt just as forced as Chat’s own. Oh,  _gods,_ how her heart  _hurt._ “Hearing you say it now is enough, Chat. It means a lot to me.”

He was quiet then, his toes twitching in the hexleather, like he was busy thinking of something. Like he was trying his best not to say...  _something._ She had a growing suspicion on what the  _something_ might be, and she stilled herself from shooting back into bed where she wouldn’t be able to hear it. Marinette wished they could both go back to bed, curl up, and forget about what they were talking about and just hide from their responsibilities of being superheros and a damsel in distress and a sincerely hurting boy and a girl hiding the fact that she was the one to break his heart and the one attempting to piece it back together again without him knowing. She felt-- more than saw-- Chat lick his lips as she wiggled next to the wall, wanting to get a clearer look at him while he spoke. Wow… his shoulders were so goddamn  _long_ and  _broad_ now. “Do you… do you know how  _hard_ it is to not just run up to you at school and tell you who I am?”

Marinette’s face pulled into something that dripped with sympathy. Were her eyes about to water? “I’m sorry.”

“I know. It’s not your fault.” Chat sighed to himself again. Why was it that Marinette could never get Chat to be completely and totally happy without having to expose herself? “This was my fault, anyways. I could’ve just come up to you in my civilian form instead of Chat and all of this would’ve been solved.”

Marinette wanted to tell him that she didn’t think it would’ve. If Chat had been a civilian when he came up to her, she certainly wouldn’t had pulled him into bed the moment he sank to his knees while sobbing on her balcony. It was selfish of her to… well, not  _enjoy_ the situation that they were in-- maybe the right word would be something like… grateful… that she had this opportunity of keeping Chat Noir hidden away from the rest of the world in her room during the night, delving her heart to him when she couldn’t so much as blink at him as Ladybug. She knew it was wrong and unfair to him. But she also knew that she really did look forward to the nights that he tumbled down the ceiling hatch, with the grace of a drunken cat, delighted to be in her company. So she gave him a small smile. “Probably.”

“Probably.” He repeated, biting his own lip. Marinette wanted to kiss him. She  _really_ wanted to kiss him. Her heart was  _burning_ for her to just press herself up against him… and...

She stopped herself from moving up to him by whispering, “Do you believe in soul mates?”

Chat’s lips parted when he gave out a little bit of a sigh and a tilted head, causing brilliant blonde hair fall across his brows. Even his foot had stopped moving now that she asked the question, his suit’s ear twitching the only thing giving the impression that his suit was another living entity. He stared at her, expression unreadable in his ancient eyes, his mouth thin. What was he thinking right now? She was worried for the answer, and she instinctively grabbed the charm at the end of her necklace to play with. “Sometimes.”

“What do you mean?”

“Sometimes I believe in it.”

Marinette tilted her head, asking for more information.  _“Sometimes?”_

Chat stuck out his tongue, playful, like he was trying to lessen the somber tension in the room, his moves lethargic and soft. “Sometimes I feel like _you’re_ my soulmate.”

 _Woosh._ Well.  _Oh._ That was a confession she  _never_ thought she’d ever be able to hear.  _Oh gods. Oh gods--_ she quickly scrubbed at her face to get rid of any tears that were starting to collect at the sides of her eyes. Was that her heart that was aching in the hollowness of her chest? Could Chat hear how fast her heart was starting to beat? She felt so familiar in this rising heart rate-- oh so similar to the heart rate she had whenever the suit was on. Could Chat hear her heart whistling between the cracks of her heart every time it decided to pump blood? “O-oh? You-- you do?”

Chat snickered, taking her face in his hands. He was gentle whenever he held her, or caressed her, careful not to hurt her. Marinette knew first-hand just how powerful his hands were when he wanted to create devastation-- it was almost intoxicating to see him tear bricks apart like wet paper with his brute strength of destruction. And even though he was teeming with-- supposedly-- unused, pent-up energy, making his hexleather sometimes way too warm, his hexsteel-tipped claws were always cold whenever it touched her skin. She welcomed it. “Sometimes I believe in soulmates when I look at you during school. You’re smiling and laughing and I so  _desperately_ want to ask you what the joke was but I never have the courage. Or when you’re walking home and I want to join you but I can’t cause you’ll  _know..._ so I’ll run up to your room instead. And sometimes when I look into your eyes when the light in your room hits it just right, I can see my entire  _lifetime_ in them. So beautiful. It’s usually when you’re in the middle of taking bites out of cake you stole from downstairs though. That’s usually when you’re the most beautiful.”

What could she possibly say back to him? What could she say? What  _did_ she want to tell him? God… oh  _god..._

“I believe in soul mates too.” Marinette whispered after a bit, starstruck, the pad of his gloved thumb tracing her lips. Hexleather felt strange against her face-- she knew that from when she wiped blood off her mouth when suited up as Ladybug, and when she rubbed her face into Chat’s chest as Marinette-- but it was  _nothing_ compared to how strangely euphoric it felt to have it rubbing up against her lips with his own thumb. She tried not to move her mouth too much so that he wouldn’t cut into her skin accidentally with the hexsteel on his claws.

Chat sighed, pulling a little ways back like he was trying to restrain himself from continuing… whatever it was they were doing. He combed his hair back with his other hand, unaware from how painful his claws were on normal unsuited human skin. “My kwami told me that Ladybug and Chat Noir are soulmates. Always. That they repeat over and over, always trying to search for one another.”

Marinette bit her lip. Tikki had told her the same thing when she had originally declined Chat Noir a date. Whether it be romantic soulmates, or best friends, Ladybug and Chat Noir were always together. Over and over again. Every new iteration of Ladybug and Chat Noir. Sometimes they were lovers, sometimes they were siblings, sometimes they were powerful people who were just married off to one another… They were bound together, through romance or friendship or family, and in every iteration they liked it that way. Everytime. That was just how it worked. And… everything would be simultaneously solved and destroyed if she were to tell him that she was Ladybug. They were soul mates, yes. But that didn’t mean that Chat would forgive her for keeping such a secret from him. So Marinette kept her lips closed.

“But every time I look at you…” He pulled back fully, back resting up against the hardness of the wall, leg bouncing back up again. Maybe Chat’s powers fluctuated from hyperactive to docile to hyperactive again. Maybe that was what kept him so on-edge during akuma attacks. “I don’t believe my kwami. I think  _you’re_ my soulmate instead.”

Would it be wrong to  _kiss_ him? As Marinette? Truly, lovingly,  _wholeheartedly?_ She scooted closer, shifting onto her knees so she could lean forward. Chat’s eyes were half-lidded which could’ve meant a multitude of things-- maybe he was getting tired… or maybe he was actually looking at her lips. Would this be allowed?  _Was_ this allowed? Their unspoken rules didn’t cover this. At all. They’d never kissed on the lips before. Cuddled, yes. Snuggled. Given soft kisses on the temples, or on the head. On the eyelids, too, and Chat’s favorite spot to give her a kiss was on her brow bone. She’d kissed him on the cheek multiple times, right where the seam of hexleather became skin. It was her favorite spot to press her lips onto, so she’d found herself more often than not giving him so many kisses on the cheeks that Chat barely had time to contain himself before laughing and purring. It brought tendrils of happiness burying into her chest whenever she saw those green eyes squint in unfiltered enjoyment. But on the lips? Kissing on the  _lips?_ Was it allowed? “Chat, I--”

 _“Can I?”_ It sounded like he was praying, or something, because it was so soft. So soft that she wondered what god could possibly be able to hear the prayers spilling from the edges of his lips. He licked his lips again, and Marinette watched with a lot of interest. Were… were his lips soft? Were they praying to the same god she was-- begging to the heavens that this... wouldn’t ruin the relationship they had in order to feel some type of intimacy they both craved? What would it be like to be complete… with… him…? What would it feel like… to… press them up against hers…?  _“Can I kiss you, Marinette?”_

She should say no. She should say  _no._ She should  _say no._ It wasn’t fair to Chat. It wasn’t fair to her, either. She shouldn’t say  _yes._ She shouldn’t say yes to a boy she knew everything about-- everything about how to make him smile and laugh and soft and puddle-like in her hands-- everything except his name. She couldn’t say yes because she had told him no already as Ladybug. This wasn’t fair to him. This wasn’t fair. This wasn’t… but…  _she wanted to._ She really wanted to. She really, really should say no. There were about a hundred reasons not to say yes, each and every one a legitimate reason… but… she found herself biting her lip, her heart  _aching,_ cold and blistering like the fragile movement of glaciers. She felt overwhelmed to know what it would be like to be whole with him. “Please. Please please  _please, Chat,_ I beg you--”

Oh.

Chat’s lips rested up against hers in seconds, butter soft, with his hands reaching around her to pull her closer. Marinette’s lips barely made contact with his before her eyes slipped shut, slow like molasses. She could tell he was attempting to keep the kiss short for her, because she felt his body pull back a bit in a hesitant manner-- one that said  _is this okay to you?--_ but she still wanted to keep him there, so she tightened her hands on where they rested on his shoulders. He hummed an almost-purr into her mouth. Oh.  _Oh._ So this was what it felt like. This is what it felt like to completely give someone the ability to love her. Why were her eyes betraying her this way and starting to cry? Why was she doing this to herself? She didn’t want to hurt Chat Noir... so why didn’t she want to stop kissing him? She tore away when the crying got too much, head resting up against his shoulder. Why couldn’t she stop  _crying?_

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was one of my favorite chapters to write, ahhh....  
> Please enjoy!! <3

_ How could Icarus explain to other mortals _

_ The calmness and peace he felt _

_ Being swallowed alive by the forgiving arms of the ocean? _

_ -The ocean was a cradle _

_ And above else, _

_ A home _

  
  


Marinette was asleep when Chat Noir’s eyes opened. She had spent herself while crying, face buried into her pillow, a spare arm thrown across his ribs. And it made him feel a thousand and one things looking down at her sleeping form. He felt…  _ love. _ Love in her arms. How was that so possible for him? How was it possible for him to love someone as so extraoridnary as her? Marinette was so… fragile. Just like any other human being without massive surges of destruction rippling underneath their skin like Chat breathed in. Without the suit, Adrien was like any other person-- except he was always more tired. No matter how many more hours of sleep he got, Plagg sucked any energy out of him the moment he detransformed. It was a painful process even dragging himself to a bed or a chair and attempt to close his eyes. Which is why he usually slept while transformed-- it was more comfortable in case there was an akuma attack in the middle of the night. It was hard waking up and doing nearly anything that wasn’t closing his eyes without the suit. It wasn’t _ impossible-- _ Adrien went to school without the help of the suit-- but it took a lot of convincing for him to drag his feet into the classroom and attempt to not sleep in the middle of class. Sometimes he was lucky and managed to keep his eyes open. Sometimes he wasn’t.

Chat blinked lazily across toward one of the nightstands on the loft with them-- staring at Marinette’s phone plugged into the wall. He had so many possibilities. He could put his number down on her phone, if he wanted to. He could put it down as his real name-- his  _ real identity. _ Adrien Agreste.  _ Adrien. _ Marinette could know, if he really wanted to. And by god-- by  _ heavens-- _ he wanted her to. It wasn’t fair to Marinette to not know who he was. For him to be risking her every single time by going into battle and picking himself out of it when he caught the flash of her pink jeans running across the street-- he always stopped halfway through the battle, no Ladybug in sight, just to make sure that Marinette wasn’t on the sidelines. He didn’t want to risk losing her. Losing her was probably the worst nightmare he could ever come up with. And it was hard digesting the idea of losing her, so Chat usually forced himself not to think about it.

_ Marinette deserved to know who he was. It wouldn’t be fair to her. _

But instead, Chat traced the edges of the peaking skin from her pillow with the pad on his thumb. He wished he could feel how soft her skin was with his hands. He’d always known that Marinette’s skin was as silky as the lotion she applied after leaving the shower. He’d given kisses to her all over her brows-- receiving wonderful take-backs on kisses just on the shell of his mask where his cheeks disappeared under. He loved Marinette’s kisses-- and it had taken every single amount of willpower he had to not just shift his face  _ just _ slightly towards her’s when she kissed his cheeks and--  _ well-- _

Well. He didn’t have to worry about that anymore. He’d gotten to kiss her-- and Chat didn’t know how to contain his affection from pouring out of him. It had taken him nearly  _ two hours _ to stop purring in contentment.

Marinette was soft.

Hell-- he’d figured out that her lips were as soft as he had always  _ dreamed  _ about by pressing his on her’s. Holding her in his arms was almost enough for his weeping heart. Pressing kisses into her hair was almost enough. Chat sighed to himself.

But it wasn’t _ entirely _ enough. There was still that heaviness in his heart that came with bad decisions-- like falling in love with a girl who he could never be with. He wished he could hold her in his arms-- his real, suitless arms. Where it was skin instead of hexleather-- fingerpads instead of hexsteel claws that could tear through an entire wall of concrete like it was jelly-- his own warmth instead of the giant furnace that he was when Plagg got sucked into the ring. Destruction was a hard concept to master-- it had taken Chat a good couple of years to really get a good grip on it-- and the tradeoff was that Chat was  _ always _ producing more heat than what was necessary. Marinette loved his warmth, and always followed him around in bed during her sleep attempting to get as close as possible to the heat source, but he always found the warmthness of his skin slightly uncomfortable. It wasn’t anything he couldn’t deal with by any means-- but all he wanted was to hold Marinette properly in his arms without worrying if he was going to accidentally injure her with his strength.

He had an idea to detransform now and deal with Plagg’s warnings in order to have a proper hug and cuddle with Marinette. Chat figured that it  _ would _ be worth the risk-- but there was a chance that Marinette could see him through the darkness  _ just _ enough to recognize who he was without the mask... and that would make their weird little situation more difficult. It was hard to say. Their situation wasn’t ideal-- with Chat hiding his real identity from his own classmate who seemed to hate his civilian self. He didn’t want Marinette to hate him. Chat knew that she was kind and considerate to him because he  _ wasn’t _ Adrien. As his civilian self, Marinette couldn’t ever look at him in the eye. She usually walked the other way when he came down the hallway. It honestly  _ hurt. _ It would hurt more now, now that they had  _ kissed-- _ how could he  _ do _ this to her? How could he  _ lie _ to her like this? About who he  _ was?-- _

As Chat, Marinette hadn’t been against the initial idea of him spending nights over as long as he left before morning. Marinette had actually been adamant about Chat spending the night nearly every night-- Marinette enjoyed his company more than he would ever allow her to admit. It made him feel happy-- to have someone waiting for him and enjoying his company. He didn’t have much of that back at home. His dad didn’t really care about him these days, as much as Chat didn’t want to believe it.

So he didn’t want to ruin what they had. _No,_ not at all. He wouldn’t risk changing his only authentic relationship with someone because of his selfishness of wanting to expose himself, although the only thing he wanted more in life would be to just be _with her._ Truly. No exceptions. No hiding behind masks. No changing the subject whenever his name was brought up in conversation because he knew that if they talked about _Adrien_ too much, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from going “ _It’s me, Princess, we’ve been together all this time without me mentioning to you who I am and I’m so sorry I love you and I’m just trying to protect you from Hawkmoth but it’s tearing me apart”--_ No sneaking past her in school, head down low, praying that Marinette wouldn’t suddenly realize _who he was_ and _how Chat had  known her_ without her ever telling him her name. He didn’t want to lose someone else in his life. Chat couldn’t afford it. His _heart_ couldn’t afford it. Although everything had seemed to have gone back to normal with Ladybug, she was still hesitant around him. She would leave immediately after akuma attacks, barely giving him a _goodnight._ She wouldn’t glance at him. They still worked together like a perfect machine… but…  
Ah, but it was a miracle that Marinette would always be willing to give him all of the attention that his heart needed. Always stumbling into her room wanting nothing more than to hold her in his arms-- to feel something tangible within his grasp. So he’d kiss her hair-- attempting to soak up the shine in her hair and the tranquility in her posture. No, he really couldn’t afford to lose Marinette at all. Even if it was selfish to keep this secret from her that she genuinely hated his civilian counterpart. Even if he had to pretend to be okay with their situation. Even if he had to lie to almost everyone in his life that he was content and not at all upset about the issues plaguing him at night. His heart wouldn’t be able to take it if everyone in his life officially kept him at an arm’s length.

Chat looked back down at Marinette. She’d moved slightly, her fingers reaching over to him and attempting to suck him back closer into bed by curling her legs around his and pulling them towards her. She was seeking out his warmth again, and it made him want to crack a smile at how docile the gesture was. He liked waking up in the middle of the night to keep watch for them, when Paris was quiet and the air was still. It was always quiet enough so that his ears wouldn’t burn from noise, and dark enough so that his eyes wouldn’t strain. And he enjoyed the peacefulness of Marinette’s face and the calmness in her brows when she slept. Nothing that bothered her ever followed her in her dreams, which was good to hear. Marinette liked to curl up against him, anchoring him back down to earth with her hands across his hexleather and a few fingers in his hair. He smoothed back a flyaway hair from her face, a fond smile forming on his lips. Marinette felt…  _ right _ to him.

But across the paleness of her face, the tear tracks on her cheeks were still visible from after they had kissed for the first time. He didn’t blame her for crying… it was a lot to take in. They had  _ kissed. _ After telling her that she was probably his soul mate. He hadn’t ever believed that he would… tell her what he had been thinking. It was a revelation he had come up with a year ago when he had looked at Marinette at school and her eyes were so beautifully shiny from laughter. Plagg had been wrong-- Plagg had been  _ wrong-- _ that Ladybug  _ wasn’t _ his soulmate. That Marinette was… that  _ Marinette _ was his soulmate. This forced Chat to realize all the possibilities to drop all of his longings and needs for Ladybug and maybe-- perhaps-- think of a future with Marinette. Well, even if she didn’t like his civilian self. She probably knew that this kiss meant a lot of things that they hadn’t talked about, a surge of conflicting emotions... which was why she was crying to begin with. He’d kissed the tears mostly away, nearly hitting the back of his head to the wall in surprise when Marinette lifted herself up after finishing crying into his shoulder and kissed him so  _ fiercely…  _ like she had made up her  _ mind… _

_ Mind about what? _ He wanted to ask.  _ Did she want to stay in this relationship where there was no beginning? And the end was as blind as the beginning? Were they both going to sink into the depths of the ocean? _

He didn’t have a problem sinking, if that was the case. He’d been doing it for almost two years now.

Chat straightened Marinette’s tangled necklace, turning the flat coin piece between his fingers. Marinette always wore the necklace he had given her-- the one that matched the freckles on the bridge of her nose-- the necklace that was as silver as the light that came through the skylight. A simple flat coin with small dots engraved to represent a symbol of divinity. He had gotten it online-- and although it wasn’t the most  _ romantic _ of gestures to buy necklaces from people who have actual talents at making jewelry-- he was grateful that he was able to give her something that wasn’t the lucky charm he had given her as Adrien. And he had made that one. It had taken him quite a bit of time to tie all the charms onto the string because although his fingers were dexterous, they were largely unused for fine-tuned work such as threading beads onto string. The necklace was far from bulky like the charm bracelet, instead being simple and elegant and even perfectly hidden underneath a shirt if Marinette didn’t want it to be showing. It would lay flat against her chest, perfectly hidden underneath a shirt. Marinette still hadn’t decided to hide it yet-- she wore it proudfully and boastfully to school over her clothes. No one had asked her yet at what the significance of the necklace was-- probably thinking that it was a simple circular charm with nothing on it.

One had to look closer to see the little stars imbedded into the coin.

The stars, to him, were the symbol of hope. It was everything that he thought of when he thought of Marinette. To him, Marinette gave him hope through the darkest of times. How could he _not_ feel hopeful for better days when he knew that days like this-- days where Marinette’s eyes would glitter in curiosity over his words-- shine whenever he told her the simple truths that were on his mind-- where Marinette’s eyes would sparkle so heavenly? How could he not feel hopeful when he knew days like this were awaiting for him if he just continued? She was _hope._ She was the symbol of _nurture._ Of _what_ _was to come._ And, well, Chat had no idea what to do with _what was to come._ He didn’t even know if what they were doing was the right thing. How could he? He had never done this before. He had never kissed anyone-- let alone someone he hadn’t discussed relationships with. Both of them were in this blind, and there was nothing he could do. There was no plan or tricks. There was just the both of them. Blind, together, in a situation that neither of them had ever expected to arise. It looked like neither of them wanted to suffocate the situation of being in love back down by force, either.

So Chat turned around in bed so he could lay down flat on his back, bringing Marinette’s arm over his ribs again. In her sleep, Marinette curled more closer to his warmth, her nose digging into the ball of his shoulder. Chat began to purr without realizing-- angling his head to the side to rest it on Marinette’s hair. He wasn’t very tired, and thinking always made him wide awake. School would be difficult for him the next day… so he didn’t try and wake her up. Marinette was always calm in her sleep, and calmness suited her. Like this, it was hard for Chat to picture Marinette passionate to the point of tears like she was at school. Marinette had a history of defending everyone against everything-- a nurturing soul just like water that Chat equivalized her with. Marinette was kind and compassionate-- and it sometimes brought Chat to his knees from how deliberately considerate Marinette was. And Marinette swallowed him whole with her kindness. An endless, drastic abyss of  _ Marinette. _

Water brought healing and happiness.  _ Marinette _ brought healing and happiness. With her deliberate slow, water-like movements when he was feeling extra broken up-- and her fingers gliding through the roots of his hair. It calmed the ache in his bones and leveled the hysteria that nestled in him when things got too rough. Marinette had a cautiousness with her to make sure that she didn’t startle him. It was easy getting startled in the suit-- he could hear and see and smell better than any other normal human being. So Marinette’s gentle fingertips and lips calmed him. Made him less afraid of opening up again. Made him comfortable for being a natural  _ freak _ in his own second skin. And, ironically, made him feel  _ safe. _ A deity like himself,  _ safe _ in Marinette’s arms? No one would’ve believed it. But Marinette was his escape from the world. The everpresent abyss of an ocean. And it still could drown him just the same.

He’d willingly drown in it now.

He hadn’t meant to fall back into her when being initially rejected by Ladybug. Marinette had been a friendly face-- someone who had worried about one of the good heroes of Paris more than a normal amount-- but it had turned into  _ so much more _ than that. She was  _ home _ to Chat. Marinette’s embrace was a home. A family. Someone to talk to about problems he wouldn’t be able to tell anyone else. She laughed and gave advice to his problems and shared her own. Whenever he did sleep in the same bed with Marinette, it refreshed him for the next day. It felt natural to come into her room and sit and talk and play games with her. Why would he ever want to ruin what he had? Oh, but it was easy for him. It was what he was good at, after all. Destruction followed him. Ruining things was his specialty.

He sighed to himself, his purring getting louder, his foot shifting slightly in a bounce. He hoped he wouldn’t wake her up with his purring. Marinette deserved to be well-rested for school. She had a lot of responsibilities at school as class president and coming to school with sleep dripping from her eyes wouldn’t make life easier for her-- even if he was feeling like he should tell her a little bit about what was bothering him. They should’ve probably had talked about what they had done before she had fallen asleep in his lap on the floor at the foot of her bed, her cold face pressed up against his neck. They should have talked about how different everything was going to be when she woke up. Did this mean that they were in a relationship now? How would that even work? He wouldn’t be able to stop himself from wishing he could kiss her all the time. Those incredibly plush lips against his would be heaven. He wished he could experience that high he felt kissing her forever.

“Mmm, Chat,” Marinette whispered, echoing loudly in the shell of his sensitive ear. His breath caught, heart pounding erratically, body tensing in anticipation. His foot stopped bouncing on the bed, too, and he felt his spine straighten to get ready to pounce. He hadn’t been expecting her to talk, and hearing her voice out of the blue was hard on his body. He forced himself to slow his breathing down, and relaxing every muscle from the foot up. It was just Marinette… It was just… Marinette… “Stop thinking.”

“Stop  _ thinking?” _ He croaked out, staring at the ceiling and not once looking back down at her. She must’ve woken up when he fixed the necklace to face the right way on her chest. Or by his foot moving too much... he smoothed the skin of the back of her palm with the pad of his thumb, wishing not for the first time-- nor the last-- he could feel just how cold her skin was without having to use his lips. What did she possibly mean about stop thinking? And furthermore,  _ how _ could he stop thinking when there was so much to understand?

“I can  _ feel _ you thinking about things,” she whispered again, pressing a kiss onto his shoulder. His heartbeat was slowing down again, and her cold breath on his neck was helping significantly. His tail even stopped swishing in attention, and he never had any control over it. It had a mind of it’s own. “You need to sleep.”

_ “You _ need to sleep. I don’t  _ need _ to sleep with the suit on.”

“We  _ both  _ need to sleep. You can’t honestly expect me to believe that your superpowers are ever-lasting, are they? I’m sure your kwami needs more energy. Surely you aren’t punishing her, are you?”

Marinette wasn’t right, but she wasn’t wrong either. Because firstly, Plagg wasn’t female. And also, Plagg fed off of his energy to power the suit, sure, but most of the energy came from Plagg anyways. Plagg wasn’t human, so it was hard for even  _ him _ to comprehend. Plagg had energy deposits that seemed to never end. And the more Chat used cataclysms in real life, destroying property, the more energy he fed Plagg. Chat never really understood the concept of it-- and maybe Plagg was just lying to him and just taking pity on what was most likely his most conflicted and heartbroken Chat Noir yet. Chat knew he looked as pathetic as he felt whenever Plagg gave him that sigh of “ _ what am I going to do with you”?  _ He tried not to think too much about it. It usually made his head spin from how little sense all of the technicalities of his suit made. But whatever the case, Chat hummed low, not wanting to argue with her so she could go back to sleep. “Okay. I’ll try to sleep.”

“Not  _ try. _ Go to sleep, Chat.”

“I just have so many questions to ask,” He muttered, purring starting up again when Marinette picked herself up slowly from where she was, leaning over him with a crook of her elbow. She pulled the covers off of both of them, the blue sheets going down to their thighs. Her hair was starting to slip over her shoulders, and it reminded Chat of a waterfall. She used the back of her hand to smooth out his hair that was collecting just above the brow bone. It was dangerously dark in her room, with the curtains closed and the only light coming through was the one from the hatch above. And yet he could still see her just well enough. His powers let him see through even the darkest of places-- and it was pretty useful during akumas that restricted light. It also was pretty useful to see Marinette in the dark-- that’s when she was the most  _ beautiful-- _ with large dialated eyes and open expression. There was good in hiding in the dark. He could see the bangs sticking all over her forehead. He could see the soft edges of her eyes, where her blinks were attempting to fight off sleep. He could see the smallest fragments of a smile showing up on her face as she smoothed his hair out.

“I have so many questions too, Chat.” She whispered, prayer soft. But what  _ deity _ would hear them now? What god would be willing to spare them a second  _ glance? _ Who would dare to look at the boy who was scorned for loving a god and had fallen in love with his savior? No. Gods looked away from them now, in their little enclave hidden in between the sheets and their hearts. Gods would not bother them in this garden, no matter how much they pounded at the door. He’d make sure of it that no one would tear their comfort away.  _ His _ comfort away. “I have more questions than ever, really.”

He could feel invisible prayers slipping from his tongue. He needed to be careful about that. Not all the gods were so kind enough to ignore them. Some gods might’ve answered back, and it was only a matter of time before they did. Hawkmoth was a god that could corrupt their relationship if he ever got a whiff of the scent that Chat had a love interest. Who  _ knew _ what Hawkmoth would do in order to gain the upper hand at getting his miraculous? It didn’t fall deaf on Chat’s ears that at any point in their relationship, Chat could get akumatized from how painful it was to remember the rejection. Another reason why he slept as Chat Noir instead of Adrien-- Plagg had mentioned that it was nearly impossible for Chat Noir to get corrupted and become akumatized-- and that Ladybug was the more likely target in the duo, as hawkmoth’s and Ladybug’s powers were similar. It was hard to corrupt the already corrupted. But it was still possible. He softened his eyes at Marinette, wishing for not the first time that she could see just how she affected him. In this case, it was literal. It was too dark for her to see anything. He hummed, “Maybe we should figure our problems out before we try to change our relationship.”

“Do you want to? Change our relationship, that is.”

“I want to be with you,” He said simply, watching Marinette suck in a tight breath. Was she having problems breathing like he did whenever he gazed into her eyes? He felt starstruck whenever he was in her vicinity. It was a miracle he wasn’t starting to purr at any moment now from how content he was to be looking up at her. Such beautiful blue eyes. He could sink into them and disappear and nothing would be different in life. If only Hawkmoth and responsibilities didn’t exist.  _ If only his responsibilities didn’t exist. _ “I don’t think I want anything else.”

“Maybe we really  _ are _ soul mates,” Marinette whispered against the edge of her palm while she yawned. He didn’t want to keep her up… but Marinette had woken up by her own accord. They’d both regret staying up so late when they had school-- but here they were, in the near pitch black. And, it was important for Chat to hold this moment dear to his heart. As Adrien, he understood that perfect tender moments would break apart so  _ easily _ from simple words said at wrong times. He knew very well what an argument could cost in a relationship-- like it had  _ destroyed _ his family. So he never took anything he and Marinette talked about for granted. Chat cherished every moment and made sure to make as memories as possible before he inevitably destroyed it-- it was in his nature. How else was he supposed to react? It was in his nature to destroy. Whether it be akumas or relationships. So he made sure to enjoy the feeling of the puffs of her breath across his face, and the cool fingers threading into his hair. He enjoyed her weight on the edge of his rib, the softness of her chest resting  _ just _ on him, her heartbeat racing and going a thousand of years a second. He could hear her heartbeat as if it was his own, and he could feel it in his  _ teeth _ from how strong it was. He collapsed this memory into his heart of Marinette leaning over him, eyes staring but not-quite-looking into his own eyes, her tongue licking her bottom lip. He watched it, ever interested. He was thankful.

“Maybe we really are soulmates.” He repeated, hexleather gliding across her skin.

“I can feel it sometimes, too.” Marinette smiled, her eyes shiny from the tears that didn’t break through. She yawned again into her palm, the straps of her tank top slipping across her freckled shoulders. “I feel it when I’m with you. Like this. I feel like nothing in the world exists and I’m just here with you only. If the entire world just disappeared I wouldn’t even be able to notice it because I’m with you.”

“How-- how can you feel all of-- all of that for someone like me?” Chat choked out a tight breath.  _ Someone who’s very existence was the representation of destroying. One that flattened earth and charred walls and tore life apart. _ Nothing was safe from his powers-- no matter how much he tried to stop it. It was somewhat of a miracle that he managed to be stable through it all-- he owed much to Ladybug’s spirit. She balanced him out by showing him ways to use his overwhelming destruction for good. Whether it be cataclysming the entirety of the city of Paris in order to make sure that the akuma never got the upper hand-- or saving them both from tight corners. It was an instant death to be touched by him. Ladybug helped him use his powers for good.

But Marinette subdued him. Instead of pushing up against him to balance him out like Ladybug did, Marinette washed over him. He breathed entirely in Marinette’s presence, as she had somehow made a lasting impression on him. She made him calmer and flatter. All of the sharp edges that came with being Chat Noir and all of the overwhelming sensations were filed down by Marinette’s attentiveness and consideration. And the ocean was a patient being, and Chat knew that in order to get to someone’s heart they had to chip away slowly. Eroding was water’s specialty-- the ocean had time on her side. They fit together in such oddly perfect way that Chat knew it was because they weren’t meant to be together. But the ocean was patient with it, and kept at it, hoping that there was a future for the both of them. Maybe if she eroded enough of his edges, he wouldn’t be so scared to hurt her with his corners anymore.

Marinette bit her lip. “Because you’re my soulmate. I know of it. I’m  _ sure _ of it. It’s like second nature to know that I fit perfectly with you in bed. My arms fit perfectly around you. My hands fit perfectly in yours. Our lips fit together. I don’t think I was made for anyone else.”

Oh-- and how he agreed! How could he  _ not? _ Marinette wasn’t the only one to notice how perfect their lips felt together. Oh, it felt almost  _ natural. _ There was that whole case of  _ I am whole without a soulmate, I am my own person, _ but Plagg had given him reason to suspect that this wasn’t the case. Soulmates apparently existed in this world. And Chat Noir was near-positive that Marinette was made to be with him. If not Chat Noir, then maybe Adrien Agreste.

“You don’t deserve to be stuck with someone you could never have a real relationship with, Princess.” How could he talk without having tears spilling from his eyes? How could he talk without having his voice crack and crinkle? By god he didn’t want to ruin the one thing he had left in this life. He wiped the back of his hand across his face, not enjoying how sticky the hexleather was against his skin. “You deserve someone who can talk to you at school and comfort you with their real hands and not claws that could rip skin open with a flick of a finger. You need someone who could share secrets with you that don’t carry the weight of the world with them. You don’t deserve to waste your life with someone--”

“But I  _ know _ you’re my soulmate.” Marinette furrowed her brows. Marinette was so pretty when she was passionate about something. Her hands gathered on the sides of his face, worry creasing the sides of her eyes as she wiped the tears away. “Which means that I want to be with you forever and ever. At this point, I don’t even care  _ how. _ I want to be with you, Chat. Goodness-- it’s so difficult talking to you, sometimes, Chat. I hear you cry and I want to fix everything that’s wrong. I want to be with you and keep you safe, which is silly because  _ you’re _ the superhero, not me. But you’re my soulmate-- I  _ promise--  _ and I’m not  _ pretending. _ I  _ know. _ And besides, I don’t believe your kwami at all about this soulmate theory. Surely, there has to be an exception, right? Ladybug and Chat Noir aren’t always soulmates, right?”

“I don’t know.” What other answer could Chat give unless it was the truth? He wished he could tell her that she was right.

She gave him a forced smile, one so thin that he could see the faintest of uncertainty trickling down her lips. “You  _ are _ my soulmate, Chat. Whether you believe it or not is not up to me anymore.”

Ha! If only she knew. If only she knew the severity of what she had said. By god did he want to believe it-- he  _ wanted _ to throw away his destiny if it meant to be with Marinette. He would give just about anything to be with her. The only thing that he wouldn’t give up would be his miraculous-- if anything, he’d give that to Ladybug and tell her to find a new Chat Noir, and that he wasn’t the correct one. He’d be upset to part with Plagg-- no doubt-- but if it meant being with Marinette for the rest of his life… he could do that. It would take a lot of convincing and many years of hard thought. But he could see himself doing it if the time came to it. He wish he could just throw away his destiny in order to be with her. Sweet, sweet Marinette with cold arms that held him close. But he couldn’t. There were gods bigger than him. He had responsibilities to the country. He had responsibilities to his partner. His  _ partner. _ And although she didn’t talk to him much anymore, Ladybug trusted in him to show up to every akuma attack and support her. Well, not  _ support _ her. But balance her out. They may not be  _ soul mates _ anymore-- but they were still the push and pull dynamic. And imbalances in power was never useful for them to fight Hawkmoth. So instead, Chat gave Marinette a smile, one that she would never be able to see in the dark, and purred. “Sometimes I wish I could hold you with my real hands.”

She smiled, one that rocked him to his core from how beautiful it was. The sides of her eyes crinkled. “One day, Chat. One day we’ll be able to do that. And it’ll be the day that I find out who you really are. I’ll hug you so tightly that I’ll bruise your ribs in happiness and it’ll stay with you for days so that you don’t forget about me even if we’re apart. I’ll kiss you so hard that you won’t be able to taste anything else in your life for the next four months! We’ll both get so dehydrated from crying that we’d have to get a giant pitcher of water ready for us to drink before you detransformed. And… I’ll… I’ll let you feel my entire body with your hands if you wanted to.”

He could already feel her phantom hands wrapping around his torso and squeezing with unnatural force with her description. He sniffled his tears away. “What if I wanted to do that today? What if I wanted to touch your arms and the skin that shows just above the collarbones? Tickle you behind the ear?  _ Kiss _ you without worrying I’m hurting you?”

Marinette gave him a sigh, gripping one of his hands in between her own. He could feel the fingers stutter against the stickiness of the hexleather. God-- her hands were so  _ small _ in compare to his. It seemed like the only thing that wasn’t petite about Marinette was her humanity. She rubbed her fingertips on the smoothness of his hexsteel claws, mindful of the sharp point at the end. Her voice softened again, barely a hint of a whisper, and the only way he could find out she was talking was by using his superhuman hearing. “I don’t... know if that’s a good idea. I want to. I really want to. But...”

“Please?” He whispered, his leg starting to bounce in place. It was a habit he had picked up from Ladybug-- she never could stay still. It never really helped him to think like it helped his superhero counterpart. Ladybug never could stay still and sometimes it transferred over to him as well. It was difficult to stop himself once he got it to start, so he would just let his suit run it’s course. Somehow his tail wasn’t moving around, but curling near his feet instead. He fixed the strap of her necklace again with his other hand, forcing the clasp that was starting to come around to the back of her neck. Marinette shivered from the coldness of his claws, and Chat frowned to himself. If only he could take the gloves off… “Please, Princess, please.”

She squinted in the dark, staring up to the ceiling hatch. Could she see the faint moonlight entering the room? Or did she just look up there in an attempt to talk with the gods? “What if I see you? What if I find out who you are?”

“You won’t. It’s too dark in here.”

Marinette’s bottom lip quivered, almost ready to cry herself, and he brought her closer to giver her a kiss on the cheek to help her calm down. “What if I fall asleep on top of you and then we both fall asleep until it’s morning and then I wake up before you and forget--”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t planning on getting that far.” He gave a chuckle, but the humor felt flat against his tongue. “But if that’s the case, then I’m okay with that. If that’s how you find out who I am, I’m okay with that… but I just want to be able to feel your face in my hands without having to be super careful about not  _ hurting _ you.”

Marinette went quiet then, processing what he had said. Was it  _ really _ such a selfish thing to want to want to hold the love of his life in his arms? To want to be with his self-decreed soulmate without having to hide his face behind a mask to keep her safe? Was it really so bad to want to give her proper kisses without worrying that his teeth would shred whatever skin they fell on? His teeth were strong enough to carve through steel. He couldn’t imagine what they could do to Marinette on accident. “Oh Chat. How I want things to be as easy as we always make them seem… But I trust you enough.”

“Are you okay with this?” Chat breathed, something hurtful pressing to the back of his throat as he hid more tears.

“Of course, Chat.” Marinette whispered, taking her sweet time to give back kisses along the edge of his mask. He purred instinctively whenever she kissed there from how perfectly familiar it was to have those lips against his face-- so the grumbling in his chest deepened. It wasn’t his fault that it was so instinctual to be happy when she kissed him. She placed an open palm on his chest where the purring was loudest, giving herself a little hum in appreciation. He brought her face closer to his and kissed so  _ nicely _ against her lips, the plushness and softness melting something waxy within him. His foot stopped bouncing, his eyes slipping shut. She smiled into his mouth, “I’m alright with all of it.”

“I promise I won’t show my face.”

“Not until we’re ready,” She nodded in his general direction, her necklace jingling from the motion, and she smoothed out the front of her shirt. Oh, she looked so beautiful... by god-- by  _ heavens-- _ when would be the polite time to tell her that she was his entire world? The ocean in her eyes were captivating. He was drowning… ever drowning… into whatever mess they considered this relationship. Full of wishes and secrets. When would be the polite time to ask for her to never let him go, no matter how much he thrashed against the currents?

“Not until Ladybug and I defeat Hawkmoth, so that I know for sure there is nobody that can hurt you because of me.”

She smiled, softly, adoration and the heavens between her lips. “I can defend myself, you know. Akumas have nothing on me.”

He didn’t doubt it. To go up against the ocean was a massive task. Hawkmoth had more than just two gods in this world to look out for. If every human was as complex as Marinette, there was a lot of danger in being so open and so raw and so  _ intimate _ with another human being. Marinette always made him feel like he was gasping for breath at her edges from how much he loved her. Maybe every single human being could be the ocean like Marinette was: grand. Everlasting. Patient. Overwhelming at times. So overwhelming it made his heart rip in a multitude of pieces. If Marinette ever got akumatized from his own faults, fighting her would be the most difficult thing he would ever do. Marinette would sink anyone she got her hands on into the depths if she akumatized. Split mountains in half. Do the impossible by parting water. The ocean was so much more destructive than Chat had ever been led on to believe. Maybe Marinette and Chat Noir were indeed made for each other. Instead of a perfect push and pull like destruction and creation, they were just a tidal pool. Ever spinning. Ever pulling. Sucking anything that got in between them down in to the bottom. “I know you can defend yourself, Princess. But I don’t want to take the risk of having someone so dear to me get pulled into the mess that is fighting akumas.”

“Oh Chat. I know It gets pretty bad,” Marinette nodded, pressing a knuckle gently just below his chest after a bit of blind mapping, onto a rib that still had splotches of color from blood underneath the suit. Chat hissed a bit, letting steam and a bit of laughter out of his breath. Sometimes, Ladybug’s purifying spell didn’t work on injuries that would take a second for them to heal as normal humans, and he still hadn’t gotten around to patching himself up as Adrien yet. It required a bit of time, and although he had a lot of that this semester from an easy school load, he usually spent most of his time as Chat Noir in Marinette’s room, just soaking up her attention like the needy cat he was. If anything, it was Marinette’s fault for giving him all the attention in the first place. Never let a stray cat get a taste of love because he would always come back. So his injuries were taking even longer to heal. “I just wish you would be more careful.”

“I have to protect the city, Princess.” Chat took that knuckle off the aching flesh, looking at Marinette’s closed eyes flutter. Her eyelashes were so  _ long.  _ He enjoyed looking at them whenever Marinette smiled with her crinkly eyes. “And to protect the city, sometimes I have to get injured.”

“It hurts a lot to see you like this, Chat,” She shook out her hand that she was resting upon, sitting up properly to get more feeling back into her arms again. Even though she couldn’t see where exactly he was on the bed because of the lack of light, she managed to angle her head in  _ just _ the right direction. How intuitive was she?

He agreed. One of the most painful things during akuma fights were the ends. Where Ladybug would run off without a proper goodbye. Where Chat lands in Marinette’s room, bloodied and bruised, and Marinette  _ freaks _ out about his injuries, pulling bandages from her bathroom and patching up whatever she could from just his face. Releasing his transformation would be the best way to fix the whole rest of his body, but that would require a lot of amount of sleep. And not always did he have the time to get in ten hours of sleep before having to leave for his house. Seeing Marinette’s face almost to tears about his injuries was by far the most painful experience during the akuma attacks. He could take hit after hit if he wanted to. But seeing her face was something he just couldn’t deal with. He always felt so ashamed for putting himself in so much danger. Sometimes he wondered if it was worth getting hurt in order to protect the city, if he saw Marinette weep in worry when he got back into her arms. He never wanted her to cry because of him.

“I’m sorry.” Was all he could say.

“I know, I know.” Marinette frowned to herself, a face that he was all too accustomed to having on her face when she was upset at herself for trying to change the inevitable. It twisted her face a bit, and made her eyes look like they were about to start weeping too. He was quick to help her from starting to cry by fixing the strap on her tank top, careful to not accidentally cut through the strap with a claw. He couldn’t imagine just how silly it would be for Marinette to have to resew the strap back on her shirt because of him trying to be considerate and trying to fix her shirt. “You’re the hero of Paris. I know. It’s in your job description. You  _ have _ to. I know. I  _ know. _ But-- god-- it’s so  _ hard-- _ Chat, seeing you beaten and bruised up and there’s nothing I can do because I’m not allowed to see who you really are and help you patch up the bruises and I am so mad at Ladybug for not being able to cure everything there is that gets injured on you--”

Chat frowned. “Hey. Princess. It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Marinette grabbed her necklace, twirling the flat coin between her cupped hand. “It really isn’t-- Chat-- you always get so hurt that I don’t know what to do. Sometimes I wish you could break the rule and let me see you because then I would be able to help you-- I could cover for you in class when you don’t show up because you’re sleeping in my bed instead trying to recuperate your health because the cleansing spell  _ didn’t work-- _ why won’t Ladybug’s spell  _ work--” _

Marinette was crying now. Why did Chat’s back hurt so much from watching her cry, like he was having metaphorical wings getting torn off? Why were his eyes watering too? He pushed up into a sitting position, and with careful claws, he wrapped his hands around her. Marinette fit underneath his chin from how much taller he was, and she shook and heaved with more sobbing than before. Why did it pain him to see her this way? He didn’t… have much of a choice… the bruises from the akumas were inevitable. And Ladybug never did well with injuries-- they never healed as fast as Chat’s injuries. It was easy to heal from injuries when he himself was the maker of them. Chat supposed that the reason why Ladybug couldn’t heal as quickly as him was because creation wasn’t so accustomed to things being in the wrong. That’s what he liked to tell himself, anyway. He wasn’t really sure. Miraculous users never really understood what the suits were made to withstand and how exactly they worked. Surely there was some sense in them, right?

“Marinette, it’s okay. It’s alright. Don’t cry, Princess. Everything is alright.” He whispered into her hair, pressing gentle kisses onto her temple. She curled herself up in his hold, digging her face into his chest.  _ “Shhhh. _ It’s okay. I don’t think it’s the spell that helps me heal. I think that has to be done by myself. Maybe it’s the fact that the spell doesn’t work on other miraculous holders. And besides, I don’t blame Ladybug for this.”

“I do.” Marinette hiccoughed. She was twirling the coin necklace in between her fingers, near hysterics. Oh, Marinette. “I blame her for all of this. If only she was better--”

“Princess--”

“She shouldn’t have done this to you, Chat.” Her shoulders shook in a cry. “She should’ve just  _ listened _ to you. If only she--”

His voice was cracking.  _ “Shhh. _ Hey. Princess, hey. It’s okay.  _ Shhh.  _ Ladybug is the reason why we’re here in this situation, isn’t she? I’m so thankful for her letting me find someone that I love. Do you know how important you are to me? I would give you the entire  _ world _ if I could, Princess. I’d bring the moon into your hands if it was possible, Marinette. I’m never going to blame Ladybug for any of this. You shouldn’t blame her, either. She’s only human hiding behind a mask, just like I am. She brought me to  _ you,  _ Princess, and I am so grateful. We owe so much to her.  _ It’s okay, shhhh…” _

“I don’t forgive her for hurting you.” Marinette said after a while into his shoulder, nearly identical to how he had held her when they had kissed. She had her eyes closed, squeezed tightly because she was afraid of opening them and letting more tears come out. Oh but how could Chat ever let himself to blame Ladybug for all the problems they had? Ladybug had given him a gift. The gift that was shockingly cold like ice. Falling from the grace that was her rejection, he was able to fall into Marinette. And he wasn’t going to let that go so soon. Ladybug was the reason why he was with Marinette here now. In front of her. Holding her close with his arms, willing to let some part of his hands hold her face without any hexleather in the way. If only it was so easy.

“She never hurt me,” Chat whispered into her hair again, softly praying.  _ Please, gods. Do not take this luxury away from me so soon. Marinette’s love is something only few could ever be able to love back in fullness.  _ “I did it to myself.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, Princess. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

Marinette was quiet for a while, breathing heavy from crying. He wiped away as much as he could away from her face, making sure to use his knuckles and not his fingers for such a delicate task. Who would’ve thought that knuckles were easier on the skin than fingertips? There was an omen in there somewhere. He tried not to get his head too wrapped up in it because it was making his head feel all fuzzy and not at all what he was going for. He ignored more rising questions that were pressing at the back of his throat-- the  _ what now’s?  _ And everything of the sort. Marinette’s necklace jingled as she lifted her head off of his shoulder, nodding to herself, a hand still curved around the flat coin around her neck. The tear tracks on her skin were glistening. It reminded him of  _ shooting stars, _ their tails silvery in the dark night _. _ “Are you going to detransform?”

Oh heavens. “Only if you’re still okay with it.”

How beautiful Marinette was when she decided on something. “I am.”

“Promise me?” Please, gods.  _ Please. _

She sniffled, pushing her hair back as well as possible while missing a lock of hair because she couldn’t  _ see. _ “Absolutely, Chat. I trust you to not tell me any information of who you are. And if the temptation gets too much, you can always transform back.”

“I’m going to let go of the transformation now,” He whispered back.

She nodded.

He could feel a bit of resistance in Plagg when he stilled himself to pull the transformation apart. It was Plagg’s way of asking if he was absolutely certain of what he was doing-- which was endearing in it’s own way. Plagg never really showed emotion besides the ever-vocal hunger, but Chat knew that Plagg cared for him. Maybe he should ask Plagg if any other Chat Noir he had been with was as confused and a daredevil as he was. Chat closed his eyes, working from his toes upwards. It was a slow process of unstitching Plagg from himself, like he was attempting to rip his personality in half. It was almost like he was severing half of his limbs from how suddenly his vision was starting to get darker-- Marinette’s face more fuzzy-- and he could barely feel his legs now from where Marinette was sitting ontop of them. Unstitching the suit off of himself was Chat’s least favorite thing because it made all of his hair stick up in uncomfortableness. Hexleather stuck weirdly to him. It was a slow and uncomfortable process, but Chat was careful about it to not rush too quickly. The stitches were making it up his thigh when Marinette slipped off of him to sit beside him instead. His legs could breathe now, which was a blessing.

Unstitching himself was also very tiring. It was most likely where all of Plagg’s energy really got used up the most-- and maybe why Adrien always felt so tired at the end and had to force himself to bed. But still, he continued, pulling Plagg’s power off of him inch by inch. He could barely see now, his mask dissolving off of his face. Marinette’s hands were doing quick work on holding his own, as tight as she could possibly muster. Even her scent was starting to dim down, the beautiful lavender scent he loved and adored dulling out as if it was background noise as he became more and more human. His teeth were shortening down to natural human teeth instead of his familiar serrated canines. His heart rate was starting to go faster-- as Chat, his heartbeat was incredibly slow. He was grateful that he had slipped into pijamas before transforming into Chat Noir, because he couldn’t imagine just how uncomfortable it would be to have his jeans back on in Marinette’s bed. He was starting to shiver from the cold air around them, the natural furnace of his body disappearing as well. His gloves were the last part to come off, the hexsteel claws finally dissolving into near nothing and faint green light as Plagg popped out of his ring.

“Oh, hello,” Marinette said in the darkness, bringing their closed hands together to her other palm that was holding his kwami. Plagg was probably sitting in her palm. “You must be Plagg.”

Adrien’s heart was racing. WIthout the suit, he felt exposed-- near naked-- without the confident hint of anonymity to hide behind. Marinette, if she wanted to, could turn on her bedside lamp and look at him. Hell-- she could take her phone that was still on the nightstand and light up the room and know that him-- that  _ Adrien Agreste him _ was next to her. The person she didn’t like. The person that she didn’t like at  _ all. _ This was possible, and Adrien  _ knew  _ that. It would be so easy for Marinette to flick on the lights and see the mystery person that was now sharing her bed. He was the same person as Chat Noir, of course, but it was the principle. The person who was in Marinette’s bed now was not the person that she fundamentally knew. She could potentially ditch him the moment she took one look at him. It was making his head spin from the idea that Marinette could kick him out and never talk to him again when she realized who he actually was. He was holding his breath to make sure she wouldn’t be able to hear the fear and anxiety that was rising at the back of his throat. Why did he think this was a good idea, again? Sooner or later, he was going to crash from his anxiety trip. He was not excited for his eyes to close for longer than a second.

“Hey Marinette,” Plagg’s voice was far away from Adrien. “It’s nice to finally get to say hello.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Plagg,” Marinette’s laughter twinkled in the dark open space. It almost felt claustrophobic not being able to see in the darkness like Adrien was so accustomed to. Like everything was so close and yet so far away. He was about to fall back into bed and stuff a pillow over his face from how much he didn’t like the openness of the darkness in front of him. It made him feel too vulnerable. “I’m sorry. I thought you’d be smaller… and I thought you were a girl for some reason!”

“I know why,” Plagg yawned, spent out tired from being unstitched off of Adrien’s skin, and Adrien tried not to move. Was Marinette turning towards him, or was it his imagination? He couldn’t tell except from the noises that Marinette was making. Adrien really wanted to just hug her and never let her go, but more important things came first-- like giving Plagg his food. He’d never give up tormenting the both of them if he didn’t. And if there was one thing that Adrien did not need of right now, it was Plagg tormenting the everlasting hell out of both of them. It was bad enough he couldn’t  _ see _ Plagg-- but it would be worse if Plagg  _ could _ see whatever frown Adrien was conjuring up.

Marinette’s voice was way too close to him, probably blind to how close they really were. “Do you need food to give him? Does Plagg get hungry when he’s out of the suit?”

“I have cheese,” Adrien didn’t trust his voice to not crack, so he kept it to a whisper, digging into his front pants pocket for a plastic bag. It was awful having to carry around the smelliest cheese in existence, but it was important. Plagg was an everlasting vortex when it came to food. As his partner, Adrien supplemented. It was a miracle no one in his household ever thought it strange that Adrien stole cheese from the kitchen, and they probably blamed it on teenager habits. Even if he’d been doing this already for the past five years. If only they knew that he wasn’t taking all of this food because he wanted to.

“Cheese?” Was that laughter in Marinette’s voice? “Why cheese, Plagg?”

“I know it’s not as sweet as cookies,” Plagg drawled. Plagg’s voice was starting to get softer and more sleepy. And Adrien was somehow not coming down from his anxiety high, but it was coming soon. “But it tastes just as good. I promise.”

“I believe you.” Marinette actually did laugh when Adrien reached blindly over to her to give Plagg the cheese. He somehow managed to knock their knuckles together in the process, and their hands making contact was so electrifying that Adrien nearly lost his ability to breathe. Plagg took it from Adrien’s clammy fingers, giving a pleased hum. Adrien wanted to see the smugness in his face, but he couldn’t anymore. Only Plagg could see the both of them, and see whatever facial expressions they were making. Hopefully he didn’t look too weird.

“Kid, fix your hair.” Plagg hummed around a bite of cheese. He’d be finished with the wedge soon. “It’s sticking up everywhere. Hey Marinette, where can I sleep?”

Marinette brought her hands up to Adrien’s hair, clearly as blind as he was, tucking pieces of hair behind his ear. Her cold breath puffed across his face, hesitant and jittery like she was holding something precious to her. Maybe she was. After all, if anything she had said was true, she had  _ Chat _ in her bed. Someone that she supposedly liked a lot. Maybe Adrien wasn’t the only one having problems breathing being so close to someone she loved. “You can sleep in my sock drawer. It’s pretty comfortable in there.”

“You don’t put your socks with your other underwear, right? Don’t get me wrong, sleeping in a bra cup is comfortable as hell, but--”

“Nope.” Marinette laughed, bringing her face closer to Adrien’s. Could she  _ feel _ the prayers coming out of his lips? They were nothing but two humans now. Surely nothing bad could happen, right? No gods to peer through the windows to unstitch the two apart? Adrien wouldn’t have anyway of defending her now. And... his eyes... were starting to get heavy… “No, you’re safe from accidentally scaring yourself.”

“Don’t kid yourself, Princess, I’ve seen a lot of stuff these past thousand of years. But I’ll keep my eyes out for anything incriminating, just in case.” Plagg made a noise like he was stretching out his body-- probably since he had been sucked up into Adrien’s ring for the past couple of hours, he was feeling a bit cramped-- and zipped away. It was just Marinette and Adrien now. Her cold fingertips in his hair, and his own hands  _ begging _ to touch her skin. She was so close now. All he would have to do is just move his hands and he’d be able to…

“Chat,” Marinette breathed, what he believed was inches away from his face. She brought one of her hands closer down his face, and Adrien closed his eyes on instinct. The pad of her thumb dug lightly into his lip and she brought her face closer. The only thing separating the two of them from kissing was her finger.

“Marinette,” He echoed back at her. Did he trust his hands to touch her skin? He’d always have to be careful when touching her in case he accidentally hurt her… but now…  _ now… _ now he could do so without hurting her. His fingers could caress her and never once did he have to worry about blood showing up. He couldn’t accidentally break any bone in her body by holding her too tightly now. Oh, and sleeping up against her sounded so nice...

“I’m going to kiss you,” Marinette whispered back, and moved her thumb to the corner of his mouth to press her lips onto his. Oh-- _oh--_ someone had done the right thing by leading him here to Marinette’s house that fateful day-- _oh--_ Marinette’s lips against his for what was the eighth time of the night was exactly what he needed. Adrien moved his deadweight hands-- limp from exhaustion-- up towards her shoulders, smoothed his calloused palms over her skin, soaking up all he could from Marinette with his fingers that he was never able to find out using his lips. _Transcendent._ He was touching a sheet of stars stitched by the heavens. _God--_ _please-- don’t take this away._ Marinette had goosebumps on her arms, and she shivered to herself when the coldness of his ring touched her skin. Was this heaven? By god-- by _heavens--_ he was so thankful. He crushed Marinette into him, tangling his fingers into her hair, exhaling with such a high strung throat that he almost whistled accidentally.

“I love you, Marinette,” He couldn’t stop whispering. He let go of her enough to pull her back and attempt to look her in the eye, even though there was nothing but black. How he wished he could see her eyes. Oh how he wished. So many wishes. So many prayers. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Chat,” She laughed, beautifully, and Adrien could picture her wide blue eyes trying to find his in the darkness. “I love you so much that it’s near impossible for me to say anything else.”

Adrien couldn’t put it into words just how much this moment meant to him. Tears were spilling out of him, and she rubbed her hands all across his back to sooth the crinkles that were threatening his collapse his heart. Sometimes he couldn’t take the overwhelming sensation of being happy and sad. He was so happy to be holding Marinette in his arms. The happiness tightened around his chest, constricting his ability to breathe. And he was also so unbelievably sad that this would be one of the few times he would be able to do so without bringing bad problems to Marinette. It would be a rare feeling in his life to be able to hold Marinette in his arms like he was doing now, so he made sure to keep the memory stored deep within his heart. He wouldn’t let anyone get this memory out of him. This was something for him  _ alone. _ This would be his most cherished memory before Ladybug and Chat Noir defeated Hawkmoth. This was the moment that would keep him going through tough times--  _ this  _ was the moment that would make him know that going to school and pretending to be someone Marinette didn’t know of all worth it-- this was the moment that he  _ knew _ that he was doing the right thing to protect Marinette. Marinette never deserved to know the hardships of the world, and it was his job to keep it that way. He wasn’t going to let anything in his life affect her. Whether he had a choice in the matter or not, that is what he was going to do.

So he sobbed fresh tears, into her open and loving hands, basking in the coldness of the touch but the warmth in the gesture, pressing deep kisses to her face wherever he could reach. The temple, the brow bone, her closed eyes, her nose, the place where she would kiss when he had a mask-- and Marinette replied by kissing those areas too. Her favorite spot gave way to wet laughter from Adrien, and he chuckled while half-sobbing when the sensation of her lips kissing at the exact spot that usually made him purr made the both of them laugh. What more could he do? He was human now. He was no longer the embodiment of destruction. He was simply Adrien.

_ “I love you, I love you,”  _ He prayed against her lips. Divinity was cold and comforting.  _ “And I think I’ll love you until I die.” _

_ “I love you too,” _ Marinette echoed.  _ “And I think I’ll love you until the stars burn out.” _

Oh-- and to have Marinette in his arms in this way? Forever? Hiding away from the rest of the world, both of them with masks, pretending to be people they weren’t? Marinette pretending that she didn’t hate him only because he had changed his name in her presence, and Adrien pretending that he wasn’t the one person in the world that Marinette couldn’t stand looking at? He wanted this. He wanted this forever. Adrien--  _ somehow-- _ felt the warmth comfort of love in this messed up situation. He felt it settle in his  _ bones. _ He felt it carve holes into his body, forcing space into him, making it known that it was making a permanent home in between the cavity that had been left behind by Ladybug. His love for Marinette was the one that she had carved out herself by hand. Patiently. Nurturing. Homely. A perfect fit, like a cradle.

The ocean was his home. And he had decided to stay. 

Gods be damned.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's get this party started, shall we? Shall we? Muahahahaha!

_ The first theory _

_ Was why did the ocean give him the time of day _

_ Instead of ripping him apart _

_ Feather by feather? _

_ -For the ocean is not always safety _

_ But rather an ongoing presence _

_ That will consume _

_ And swallow _

_ Prey whole _

_ And above all else, _

_ It is unforgiving _

 

Marinette groaned to herself awake, reaching over the softness of the sheets for her ringing cell phone. God, her phone was so  _ loud _ today-- had she not put down the volume to an acceptable level before falling asleep? Oh-- and the sheets were so  _ warm-- _ would anyone really care if she didn’t show up to school today in favor of staying home in bed? Surely no one at school would notice her gone for a couple of hours, right? She was late to school all the time because of her work as Ladybug. No one bat an eye to Marinette being late to school. No one would notice Marinette not showing up entirely to school? She could hope, right?  _ Right? _ Tikki wouldn’t mind, either-- Tikki was more susceptible to the cold because of her ‘bug’ habits, which meant that she loved sleeping and dozing off when the temperature was cooler. Surely Marinette being the class president she had special perks, right? God-- oh no, she was  _ Class President-- _ she  _ had to be _ at school today for the meeting after class-- she couldn’t miss it. Her fingers found the snooze button on the touch screen, cursing to herself profusely when a knuckle hit the lip of the nightstand, and Marinette groaned back into her pillow. The pain flourished, painful and  _ hot, _ white pain flooding her arm. Ow. She huddled closer into her sheets for warmth and comfort. Paris’s temperature was going to much colder next week, too--  _ heavens and stars-- _ how would she able to go to school without dropping dead asleep on the sidewalk? The cold always made Marinette too tired.

Just five more minutes.

Her hand dug back into the pile of blankets she had accumulated from her closet over the good couple of almost-winter months, sighing to herself as she buried herself back by shimming. She pulled the covers up to her nose, too, for warmth. She was starting to get goosebumps from how cold her room was. She sighed to herself, scrubbing at her eyes that were tacky from all the sleep, cupping her mouth from a yawn. It had been a mistake to stay up so long the night before. What had she even been doing? Had she been scrapbooking? Playing video games with Chat? Who knew. All she wanted to think about was how warm the pillow in between her arms were, and how wonderful it smelled. She curled her leg around the pillow, shimmying ever closer to how warm it was. Maybe if she could just lay still on the sheets for a little while, she’d be able to warm the entire bed up--

Marinette’s heart started to race when something shifted on the bed with her. The pillow was  _ moving. _ Was it Tikki? Definitely not. Tikki was not  _ her size. _ Marinette nearly opened her eyes when she remembered that it was Chat. Oh, alright. Peaceness washed over her again, and she cuddled with him, hexleather comfortable on the side of her cheek. This was odd… because Chat Noir never would spend the entire night. In her bed. Sleeping. Chat would usually leave before her alarm rang so that she could get ready for school. Chat had told her before that his family didn’t really care where he was or what he was doing, and they would probably never ask him why he looked tired in the morning, so it was relatively easy for him to sneak back into his house. Had Chat been extremely tired this night? It was still incredible to Marinette that he could sleep  _ sound asleep _ within his suit when she wouldn’t even be able to breathe without being in a massive panic attack. Oh-- Marinette was doing a hybrid of spooning-and-suffocating to Chat Noir.. _. _ And he was  _ asleep. _ How did he possibly fall asleep through the entirety of her alarm clock? It was probably the most annoying sound she could ever think of. It was loud and shrilly and  _ surely _ that hurt his ears, right? It would’ve--  _ should’ve-- _ woken him right up… except…  _ except _ it wasn’t  _ Chat Noir _ in her bed, was it? He didn’t have his sensitive hearing anymore. It was Chat Noir’s civilian self in her bed. This wasn’t hexleather against her face, but rather normal pajamas. And it was warm and toasty against the harsh element that was life. Marinette didn’t trust herself to open up her eyes. How she wanted to see!

Of  _ course _ she wanted to know who he was. How could she not? He was so easily accessible. There was enough light for her to open her eyes and find out who he was. Hell, all she had to do was call out every single name of the people in physics class with her and just keep calling him until he woke up to one of her names.  _ All _ of these things were possible. And all of it was tantalizing. To be so far away yet so close to someone she loved…

Chat groaned in his sleep, trying to untangle himself from Marinette’s spooning. Marinette smiled to herself, eyes closed, pressing a kiss to what she assumed was his shoulder. She found his hand somehow, in the mess that was her blankets, and traced each callus that appeared on his fingertips and palm of his hand. Just like everything else that was Chat Noir, his hand was large and overwhelming. But still comfortable. Her hand fit perfectly in his. They truly were soul mates to be together, weren’t they?  _ Oh Chat-- _ how difficult it would be for her to convince him that they were without bringing up the topic that she was Ladybug. Surely he wouldn’t be  _ too _ upset, would he? And his fingers were rubbing nice little smooth circles over her hand, which was  _ so nice--  _ not sticky and tacky like the hexleather usually was-- surely he wouldn’t be upset at finding out that who he was--  _ dating?-- _ was also the person that he had fallen in love with from the beginning. Right?

Right?

Sure. Of course.

“Nnn-- what? Oh--” Chat cursed out, tensing up in her asphyxiating grasp. Maybe she was holding onto him a  _ little  _ bit too tightly.  _ Maybe. _ But it was nice to hear that he was awake and stressing out about the fact that the both of them fell asleep and had been completely unaware of the things they would have to deal with in the morning. And by ‘things’, it was mostly Chat attempting to force his hips in the different direction that Marinette was pulling him to. Marinette tried not to blush to herself at what that could possibly entail, thankful that the covers covered her face. As a civilian, Chat didn’t have the obliterating strength that he was probably accustomed to, so he struggled to pull their legs and hips apart. It wasn’t that Marinette was helping, either. Chat slumped down after a while, clearly too tired to pull them apart, probably thinking that Marinette was too far down the half-asleep-half-dreaming stage to realize that ‘something’ was pressing up against her leg.

But as Chat’s luck would have it, Marinette _ knew  _ what it was. And she hid her smile behind the covers.

“Princess,” Chat whispered,  _ really _ trying to get his fingers unstuck from hers. It wasn’t her fault that they were compatible! “Princess, we have to go to school.”

Marinette hummed, pushing her face up closer to the sleeve of his shirt. “No we don’t.”

He laughed, rich and low and full of  _ sleep. _ It made her toes curl. “Yes, yes we do. We really do, Princess. You did so much homework last night for nothing?”

“School can go die.” Marinette said as elegantly as possible while trying to constrict around him with her arms some more. Chat wheezed in her arms. “I’m busy sleeping.”

“Oh Princess,” Chat laughed, his voice cracking awake. “It would look really suspicious if we both showed up to school late, wouldn’t it?”

“I’m always late for school already. Besides, even if you left now, you wouldn’t be ready for school!”

“Then I’ll just go with what I’m wearing now.”

“In your  _ pajamas?” _

“Sure.” Chat shrugged, and Marinette tried to imagined what it would be like to open her eyes and see Chat in his pajamas in her bed. Were they cat printed? Did Chat Noir buy his own (un)official merch? And… did he have bedhead whenever he woke up? She couldn’t imagine it any other way. Chat Noir had an untamable curly mop of hair-- surely it was similar to how his real civilian life hair was like, right? It wasn’t unheard of to have similar hair in the suit than without it. Marinette herself didn’t do much with her own hair when she was Ladybug-- although she had changed from putting her hair in pigtails and into ponytails instead. It was safer for her. Less of a target to be grabbed from behind by one of her pigtails. Or whatever the lie was she had come up with when Chat Noir had been confused by Ladybug’s hair being different that one time.

“But then I’d know who you are by you going to school wearing pajamas.”

He cursed. “I guess I have to go back home and change then.”

How could she part with his body? The warmthness of his skin against hers was  _ wonderful. _ She pressed her lips up against his neck, enjoying how the hollow of his throat rumbled in a handsome laugh as she gave him sleepy kisses.  _ One. Two. Three. Four. _ All across the smoothness of his throat, all invisible except to the both of them. She wouldn’t leave any marks, of course, because Chat had strict rules in his household about visible markings-- which was probably a difficult rule to upkeep since Chat had told her that he would detransform all bloody and injured from some akuma fights-- so all of her kisses were as light as possible so that she wouldn’t make any accidental marks. Light and sweet and the only thing that kept them there was probably the heat in her lips. He shivered as she kissed up to his jawline, chuckling to himself when she pressed a kiss to the ever-familiar place on his cheek. She could find it even with her eyes closed.

Chat broke her thoughts by sagging back into her hold, the intent of getting up leaving his body. “I wish I could stay.”  
“I wish you could, too.” Marinette smiled, locking her knees around him and pretending like she wasn’t ever going to let him go. She wish that was the truth. Just forget about everything in the world except both of themselves… pretend that school didn’t exist… and she was decently strong enough to hold him in place. For a good couple of seconds before he managed to break out of the hold and zip out.

Chat sighed, “I can always come back after school?”

“I have a class leader meeting,” Marinette frowned into his shirt, wondering what color it was. What a sight it would be to open her eyes and see the love of her life in her bed as a civilian...

Chat deflated again. “You just had to be the most wonderful person in the world, didn’t you? Caring about our classmates and stuff.”

“Don’t make me sound like a superhero, that’s your job!” Marinette laughed. “I’m just doing the job that no one wanted this year. It gives people time to go home and do what they want.”

“And what do you want to do then, Miss Superhero, if you had the ability to do what you wanted?”

How she wished she could open her eyes and look at him. She missed looking into those green eyes. “Go home to you. Go to bed. And never  _ ever _ leave.”

Chat laughed then, holding tightly onto her as much as possible before parting. “One day, Princess.”

When her and Chat defeated Hawkmoth. And oh, would that day be well given. She fought akumas with so much determination now, never pulling any of her punches, making sure that any opportunity to grab Hawkmoth’s miraculous-- or at least, his identity-- was checked before continuing on her every day to day life. She was ready for the suffering of the city to end. Nearly every day there was some sort of trouble-- and it was getting harder and harder to hide the fact that she was Ladybug from Chat Noir. He was attentive of Marinette, and always asked what were the weird blotches of color on her legs. They were usually left over problems of fighting said akumas, but she always played it off as her bumping into things at school. Marinette knew that Chat kept a relatively close eye on her at school to make sure she was being safe-- most of the akumas were coming from their own school simply because Chloe loved destroying people’s feelings and intentions. So Chat kept close eyes on Marinette to make sure that she wouldn’t get akumatized. It was thoughtful of him, of course. Lord knew that Marinette needed all the help she could get-- Tikki had told her that Hawkmoth’s akuma butterflies were easily drawn to the Ladybug miraculous holder because their powers were extremely similar. Marinette was absolutely thankful for Chat’s attentive glances. Even if she had no idea who he was.

Except when she was trying to transform privately and Chat managed to grab her and go hide her somewhere safe. This was almost every single day-- and it was getting harder and harder to hide the truth from Chat. How was she supposed to keep this up without revealing the identity of one or the other? Certainly their luck would run out once, right? It didn’t matter how many times their luck worked to make sure that they weren’t exposed to one another. Their luck only had to fail once in order for this entire relationship to rock. The only thing that was keeping them from figuring out what a long string of coincidences. Not once had Marinette ever accidentally walked in on Chat as he was transforming-- but Chat never had the knowledge to be wary of Marinette transforming herself. She would usually just wait until he took her home to transform there, but she didn’t want to be late to all of the akumas either. Sometimes a second was enough to change the pace of the entire battle-- missing that window of opportunity was not useful for any of them.

“One day, Chat.” She echoed, pained that this was goodbye for now.

“I’ll see you soon,” He kissed her brow bone, finally dislodging his fingers from hers. Chat Noir was somehow much stronger than her when it came to normal human things, because once he was able to pull their fingers apart, everything was a piece of cake for him to untangle. Marinette whined a bit, upset at his departure, feeling uncomfortable in the loss of heat from his body. Even as a civilian, Chat was much too warm. It was almost addictive to cuddle up next to him. Marinette didn’t even bother hoping that it wouldn’t be habit to want to be next to him the next time Chat was over, because she knew the moment he walked through the trap door she would glue onto him like lint did all over his hexleather. “Plagg?”

Plagg didn’t respond.

_ “Plagg?” _ Chat laughed, sighing to himself. “Plagg, are you asleep still?”

“Can you transform even with him asleep?”

“I actually don’t know-- I’ve never tried. Plagg,  _ claws out--” _ A rupture of light backlit the sides of Marinette’s eyelids, and she squeezed them tighter in surprise. A few seconds of light and Chat shifted on his side of the bed, slipping back on his shoes and clicking them in place with the back of the button. “I guess the answer is yes, Princess.”

Marinette opened her eyes. Chat Noir was giving her a smile that was warm and silly, long canines shiny in the light coming through the ceiling hatch window. Oh, it was  _ good _ to see him again. She had missed seeing those beautiful green eyes of his. She gave him a smile, throwing her legs over the bed to find her slippers to keep her feet safe from the cold. It was probably not a good idea to attempt to sleep in the barest of clothes while it was nearly freezing outside, but she couldn’t help it. Chat was a natural furnace and it made any type of article of clothing uncomfortable to wear. And as much as the option of sleeping naked was viable, she did  _ not _ want to do that in front of Chat. They  _ really _ didn’t need any accidents. She shivered as the suppressed heat around her disappeared, and she wrapped her arms around herself to hide her skin that was starting to pebble up through her shirt. Chat’s eyes were starting to dilate while he looked over her, as if he was attempting to map out her entire being just by  _ looking. _ What was he thinking? He was nearly always a blank canvas when he smiled, like his happiness was just a screen for what he was actually feeling. Marinette bit her lip. She didn’t want to part with him. “Chat?”

He raised a brow, the hexleather of his mask making an audible stretch noise. “Princess?”

“Kiss me, please?” Marinette swallowed hard. The night couldn’t arrive fast enough, could it? She missed him already--  _ goodness-- _ “Kiss me so that I know this isn’t fake. Kiss me like you love me.”

He laughed, then, his tongue smoothing over the point of his long teeth. He was making sure they were there so he couldn’t hurt her. His eyes were sparkling  _ something, _ clearly trying to tell her something, but Marinette still couldn’t read them. There was  _ gravity _ in his stare, the ancientness so alarmingly familiar and  _ stark _ yet so untouchable and almost fleeting-- Marinette never knew what to make of it. Chat Noir always hid his anonymity well behind the mask, as if he was born wearing it. “It won’t be different than any of the kisses I’ve given you in the past, Princess.”

She sank into him, head tilted back as far as possible to be able to kiss him without him having to bend down-- he was so  _ tall-- _ and she melted into him. Oh how she wished she could bunch of the fabric of his clothes into a fist while she held him-- hexleather never unstuck from their skin when they transformed. It was a skin-tight suit that never had any give in them to make sure they were absolutely protected. It was good to keep them safe and warm-- never allowing cold currents into the suit-- and waterproof, so that in case they submerged themselves they wouldn’t come out of the water sopping wet. So Marinette did the next best thing-- curling her fingers around the back of his neck and scratching just behind his ears so that he would start purring without any real intention. His purr rumbled deep in his throat and his chest, echoing in the hollowness that was Marinette’s body when she was pressed up against him like so. She didn’t want Chat to  _ leave. _ Facing the day was hard. Leaving the comfort of her room and having to face the passing day was uncomfortable. She truly looked forward to when Chat would knock on the hatch and come inside for the day-- it was the most fun she would have in the week. She parted from the kiss, smiling at him, wondering not for the last time why he looked sadder the more and more they got closer to each other. “I’ll see you at school, Chat.”

“I’ll make sure of it,” He winked, “and I’ll be here when you get back home.”

Here was the moment where they would part ways saying the things they always said. This was the moment where they would say the stereotypical lines so that they knew they had actually talked to one another and not some replica-- or an akuma-- of themselves. Chat’s paranoia was always super high about duplicates of himself-- especially since the Copycat incident  _ and _ numerous Volpina mirages had caught Chat Noir in predicaments. So Chat had asked Marinette to say the same words over and over again whenever they parted. 

But Marinette’s voice was lost, heart hurting in self aware. This was the last moment until nightfall that she could make sure for certain that Chat Noir was safe and alright. There was no akuma around, so there was nothing that could take him away from her. But there was the possibility that he could go home, get caught by his parents, and be subjected to a life in solitude trapped in his own house-- or shipped off to another city to make sure that he was safe. And she wouldn’t  _ know. _ She wouldn’t be able to do anything to help or save him. Right here, right  _ now, _ looking at him as he tilted his head in curiosity at why Marinette’s eyes were watering, and breath quickening--  _ this _ was the final moment until the night crept up on them that she was absolutely certain that Chat Noir was safe.

_ “Be safe,” _ Marinette’s voice cracked, and she scrubbed across the highpoints of her cheeks to get rid of the collecting moisture.  _ Please stay safe. Please stay safe. _ Why did her body decide to cry so easily? She was never much of a cryer up until this point.  _ “Be safe and come back home soon.” _

_ “You won’t even notice I’m gone,”  _ Chat nodded back hesitantly, pressing one last kiss onto her brow bone, and climbing up a couple of pegs on the ladder up towards the hatch. He pried the door open using his claws, looking down again at her.  _ Oh, _ she would notice him gone. She noticed his empty presence-- of how her room always felt wider and bigger. She didn’t like him gone. She didn’t like the uncertainty of knowing that Chat Noir had  _ other things _ in his life, other problems that she couldn’t help out in. She was uncertain that she would ever be able to help him out. Painful as it was, there was nothing she could do. Inevitability was Marinette’s greatest downfall, really. She hate inevitability as much as she hated fate. She just  _ had _ to be the idiot and decline loving the person she had come to love the most-- Chat Noir. Oh Chat-- if only there was a way for her to go back in time and fix what she had done… but there was nothing she could do. The only thing she  _ could _ do now was hope that whatever got in their way-- whether it be an akuma or just plain bad luck-- they were capable at handling it. Whether Ladybug or Marinette was the one to fix things-- that wasn’t certain. But there was certainly going to be  _ something, _ for how could there not be? Akumas attacked every day. Maybe she would see him then.

She hadn’t even seen him leave, and she huddled to herself for warmth. She attempted to wrench the ceiling hatch shut with her hands that felt like they were a  _ thousand times smaller _ and tired than Chat’s own, sitting back down in bed when she completed her task. Tikki floated nearby, giving Marinette a curious glance. Marinette had never been much of a cryer up until recently, where Chat would climb into her room and just  _ lay his head _ on her lap and stare at her like she was the moon and all the stars and  _ how? How could she tell him? How could she tell him that she was the one to break his heart all those years ago? _ The further and further she put it off, the more it was going to be painful for the both of them.

“Marinette,” Tikki tilted her head, ever curious. Her voice was soft, as if she was worried to startle her. “You need to get ready for school.”

“Yeah,” Marinette nodded, going down the stairs that led up to her bed. She paused at the end of the staircase, giving Tikki a worried glance. “Oh Tikki, what am I going to do?”

Tikki sighed. “I’ve never seen a Chat Noir so much in love before. It’s truly an amazing sight!”

“There hasn’t been a Chat as in love as this?” That was news to Marinette. “What do you mean?”

“Oh dearest,” Tikki gave her a motherly tone. “I’ve lived for millions of years. I’ve seen so many unbelievable things, Marinette-- and sometimes it gets all muddy and confusing to pull all my memories apart. But Marinette, I know for a fact that each and every iteration of Ladybug and Chat Noir are unique. They’re never the same, no matter how the result will turn out. Each Chat Noir and Ladybug love each other differently throughout time. And Chat Noir definitely loves you. And I’ve never seen anything like it before!”

Chat loved her. He had said so. But still, hearing it from Tikki was enough to make the world spin for her. “Chat loves me.”

“He really does,” Tikki nodded. “Just like you love him.”

“How am I going to tell him?” Marinette bit her lip, reaching for the necklace that sat at the top of her chest. “Oh god-- how am I going to tell Chat that I’m  _ really actually _ his soulmate?”

Tikki quieted, her antennas flicking in thought. Tikki was a powerful creature. She had lived for millions of years-- she had seen the cycle of every Chat Noir and Ladybug fall in love. Over and over again. They were always together, and always enjoyed their relationship. Like fate, or destiny. They were always made for each other, whether it be platonic romance, or family romance. Or even… what they were now. But she wasn’t Ladybug in this circumstance-- she was Marinette. A girl who Chat Noir just so happened to get to know better as his superhero self, and not his civilian form, and had fallen in  _ love. _ Surely this had happened before, right? There was only so many ways Chat Noir and Ladybug could meet before they inevitably started to repeat themselves over and over. Thousands of years of humans meant that every iteration had something similar in between them, right? What had the Ladybug of the past done when there was this issue? Had they done something the correct way or did they hide the truth forever?

“I don’t know,” Tikki said simply. “I don’t have the answer.”

Marinette’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. That had  _ not _ been the answer she was looking for. If the being who had lived for  _ millions _ of years didn’t have the answer, what more could she do? Not even Tikki could help. Essentially, Marinette was in this mess alone. Oh boy. Marinette slumped at her dresser, pressing herself into the edge of the drawer, attempting to find some clothes that would keep her warm. Would it snow this week? She hoped it wouldn’t. Marinette always felt a little sluggish in the snow-- it was probably from all the time she spent as Ladybug. She pulled a long sleeve out of the drawer, and a bra, shucking herself out of the thinness of her pajamas. She changed quickly in front of the dresser, hoping to dispel the coldness from her skin. It was always so cold in her room without Chat.

Tikki watched her lace her boots and pull a coat out of her closet. “Are you going to eat breakfast?”

“Sure,” Marinette padded the pockets of the coat to find her gloves. “But I’m not really hungry.”

“Make sure to take some cupcakes from downstairs to the meeting today, Marinette.” Tikki zipped over to her backpack, “You made a promise to Juleka that you would bring them.”

The class president meeting. Of  _ course. _ She kept forgetting about it-- and Marinette nearly thumped the back of her palm onto her forehead as chastise. They were going to be discussing plans on getting school spirit up in classes-- most of the students were starting to get tired and weary about this being their last year in school-- so they all wanted to celebrate by doing something big. And Marinette had offered to bring snacks for the meeting this week so that there was something to look forward to in the long succession of tossing-ideas-around-for-a-couple-of-hours-until-nothing-was-decided. It was a lot to work with. Marinette ran to the bathroom, brushed her teeth and put on a coat of mascara over her lashes to make her look like she actually had taken a bit of time to make herself presentable for school and wasn’t at-all still emotionally back in her bed, buried under the covers with Chat Noir. A girl could only dream. Marinette packed all of the homework that had been spread out across her desk into her backpack, as well as an extra cookie in a cup for Tikki, before going downstairs into the kitchen.

“Good morning, darling,” Marinette’s mother smiled at her, pressing a yogurt cup into her hands. “Did you sleep well?

Although Marinette looked much like her mother-- the blueish hair and the similar eyeshape as well as the petitness of her body-- much everything else was similar to her dad. She owed much to her father’s long fingers that made up her own too, as well as how blue her own eyes were. And the litter of freckles that spanned across her cheeks and nose-- they all came from her dad’s italian side of the family. And Marinette’s mother wasn’t quite as tall as her-- she had gotten just a  _ bit _ of height from her dad-- and Marinette felt overwhelming fondness being able to see over her own mother’s head. She set the yogurt cup down on the counter, hugging her mom with a fierce firmness that made her mother laugh. “Yes, mama. I slept really well, actually.”

“You certainly look like it,” Sabine smiled, her hazel eyes crinkling at the sides. She lifted her hands to tilt Marinette’s face  over the side, checking for any bags under the eyes. Sabine frowned a bit, her thin eyebrows creasing together. “Darling, have you been crying?”

Mascara didn’t do much to hide the slight redness in her eyes, apparently. Marinette floundered, digging for a spoon in the kitchen drawer, shoveling a heapful of yogurt into her mouth. “Yeah-- I-- Uh-- I watched a movie last night before going to bed about-- about  _ cats-- _ that made me really sad.”

“Darling,” Sabine laughed, tension easing off of her face again. Had Marinette’s mother really bought that? “You need to stop watching those.”

“I can’t help it,” Marinette tried speaking with another spoonful of yogurt in between her cheeks. “They’re so nice to watch.”

Marinette’s mother opened the fridge, handing her a bottle of water. Marinette made sure to stuff it in the water bottle pocket of her backpack, giving her mother a kiss goodbye. “Make sure to hydrate yourself out there. Winter always makes our skin dry.”

“Will do, mama!” She nodded, going down the stairs to the bakery to go greet her dad. She gave him a good morning kiss, too, digging into the pantry for a confectionner’s box to grab all of the cupcakes for the meeting later on in the day. Marinette hoped she wouldn’t have to miss lunch for the meeting-- really-- but if it came around to it, at least there would be cupcakes. And cupcakes always made everything better.

“Did you sleep well?” Her dad wheeled past her with a cart full of bread. It was going to make her salivate from how nice it smelled.

“I did! And you, papa?”

Her dad sighed, using one of his giant hands to touch the back of his shoulder. “I slept on the wrong side of the mattress again.”

“We should probably buy you a new one, then, right?” Marinette laughed. “You’ve been complaining about your shoulder hurting for weeks.”

“We’ll go to the mattress seller soon when we have time.” Being a baker was a twenty four hour job, of course. Her mom and dad never had time to do anything except sleep and the occasional date when Marinette would spend time doing homework at the cash register, making sandwiches and bagging sugary treats for customers. It wasn’t all that bad when she worked alone, and as much as she wanted to have Chat Noir next to her while she worked on homework in the bakery, it was never any good news to have civilians seeing a random girl hanging out with Chat Noir without causing suspicion. It wouldn’t be good for either of them. So she would do homework alone at the cash register, and have him help her out whenever she had trouble-- but only in her room. No one else could find out that she was really close friends with Chat Noir. That was dangerous. “Be safe out there, Marinette-- it looks like it will snow any moment now.”

“I will, papa,” Marinette gave him another kiss on the cheek, reaching up on her tippy-toes to reach. Her dad was even taller than Chat, which always sounded impossible to her-- but it was the truth. Maybe her dad just kept growing taller from all that she loved him. It was certainly plausible. Marinette slipped on her gloves, eyeing the chilly air outside the bakery doors. It looked like the sidewalk had been glazed over with a thin coating of ice, and she held the confectioner’s box full of cupcakes closer to herself. She didn’t want that to spill all over the pavement like she had done with the macarons the first day of school. It would be really unfortunate.

The air that greeted her once she opened the door was neutrally cold-- just enough to make Marinette huff in inconvenience-- but not enough to make her want to die. It was certainly cuddle weather. Just not  _ this is the worst thing I have ever experienced in the entire history of my life _ weather. Although, it would definitely get there if the wind picked up. Marinette hoped it wouldn’t. There was only so much she could do in terms of not falling over and making sure that all the food she had promised for the meeting actually made it in time.

She took her time crossing the street, checking very closely for any oncoming cars before attempting not to skid over to the other side of the road. The school wasn’t that far away-- it was close enough that it was walking distance so she didn’t really mind it--  _ until  _ it was winter time and everything sucked. She hoped her boots were good at not slipping. She was almost on the street to turn the corner when a car honked behind her, nearly sending the box out of her hands in alarm.  Why was she getting honked at? Had she been on the street instead of the sidewalk? She checked where she was-- but nothing was out of place. Maybe it was a particularly rude driver. She gave them a curious glance, frowning when there was nothing there but her reflection. Tinted windows on someone who was just honking at her for nothing. That wasn’t very nice.

Except the car didn’t move to pass her so she could cross the street once they were gone. It didn’t fall on deaf ears that this could also be a ghost car and the works of an akuma-- except the car wasn’t glowing or trying to attack her. If anything, it was waiting for her to do  _ something. _ So she attempted to cross the street in front of the driver, presuming that maybe the honk was a  _ ‘go ahead, I can wait you pass’ _ honk. She stepped foot over on the road, making sure that there weren’t any cars behind the driver attempting to cut him short and consequently run her over because she was in a blind spot. Nobody. Marinette took two more steps on the road before the car honked again, shrill in her ears, and Marinette struggled to keep the box in her hand in haste to look back at the car. Seriously, what was this person’s problem? Was this just a really weird akuma?

The window seat at the back of the car rolled down, and it was  _ Adrien-- lord-- _ giving her a sheepish smile. His eyes were crystal clear, perfectly green and almost startling against everything else Marinette had seen yet. “Marinette, do you need a ride?”

“Oh!” Marinette gave him the same smile. “Hi, Adrien. N--no, it’s okay. I’m almost at school anyways, I don’t-- don’t mind walking the rest of the way there.”

Adrien frowned. “You’re going to be late.”

“I don’t really mind,” Marinette gave another step closer to the end of the crosswalk, trying to cut the conversation short. She didn’t want to make  _ Adrien _ late either. The angel didn’t deserve any tardiness on his perfect track record. “I’m late all the time as it is.”

Not because she  _ wanted  _ to. Sometimes things got in the way. Like struggling when to find out would be the perfect time to cross the street and not get run over. And sometimes she would just daydream while walking and miss a street. And sometimes Marinette just took her time walking. After all, if she was late all the time, why did it matter  _ how _ late she was? As long as she made it to class, everything was good.

Adrien gave her a look, and he creased his eyebrows in thought. A moment passed before he opened the door, unbuckling his seatbelt. Goodness, his cheeks were starting to get red from all of the frost that was hanging out the cold weather. She probably looked the same-- and hoped that her eyelashes weren’t sticking together in the cold. Adrien said something to the driver, who merely drove off once Adrien was done picking up his belongings from the backseat. Marinette stifled an inhale at his outfit. Adrien looked so well put together, it was honestly insane at how Adrien always managed to look like he had his entire life put together. It was probably all the help of having an assistant-- Marinette believed her name was Nathalie-- to help him out. Even his clothes had a level of sophistication to them that Marinette would never be able to match, even if she copied the outfit stitch by stitch at home. Adrien threw his bag over a shoulder, giving her a polite smile. “I’ll... walk with you.”

“Oh-- Adrien-- you really don’t have to.” Marinette bit her lip, wincing at how raw it was. “Now you’re going to be late, too.”

“Ah, it’s okay.” He shrugged, tightening the strap of his bag with gloved hands. He dug his hands into his coat. “I don’t mind it. You looked really lonely.”

“That’s really nice of you,” Marinette’s voice trailed off, staring down at her boots. They were shiny from all of the cold air. Oh how suddenly interesting the toes of her boots were to her now, and she refused to make eye contact with him. It wasn’t because Marinette didn’t like him--  _ lord-- _ everyone in school knew that she liked him. Which meant that there was a  _ thousand percent _ chance that Adrien knew about it, too. She wasn’t exactly… good at hiding it when she was younger. But Adrien had never brought it up… so… maybe he was just ignoring her affection to make everything easier for the both of them. So she tried not to make it too obvious around him, even though it was kind of difficult. And now that Chat and her were… together? Dating? It wasn’t as if she was going to go behind his back or anything and attempt to date Adrien. That wasn’t her style. And as  _ if _ she would ever tell Adrien to his face that she used to have a massive crush on him. She’d rather get akumatized.

Adrien hummed, his own boots crunching ice that had collected at the end of the sidewalk. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Marinette squeaked, feeling embarrassed that she was too far into her own thoughts to even notice that they should probably start walking to school. “A-and you?”

“Good.” God, how did Marinette manage to make everything super awkward? She sighed into the box of cupcakes, looking up to the grey sky in hopes of an idea of how to fix all of the awkwardness before Adrien regretted leaving the warmth of the car in favor of keeping her company. Nothing was coming to mind. Sometimes Marinette missed the clarity that came with being Ladybug-- even through the massive overstimulation that came with being Ladybug such as colors being too bright and everything being too slow-- Marinette thought the best within the suit. Everything was faster for her to think about. She thought clearer, too. She was more calculative and pensive. Not to toot her own horn, but she felt like her deductive skills were better as Ladybug, too. Solving akuma puzzles were fun for her.

But as Marinette-- things were  _ hard. _ Talking to Adrien was  _ hard. _ And she attempted to avoid it at all cost by turning the other way whenever he showed up, because she couldn’t bring herself to painfully twist any conversation Adrien attempted to have with her into pure  _ boredom.  _ Euch. She had built up such a terrible reputation with Adrien that he probably thought that these conversations with her were  _ normal. _ God. She wished she could change that, somehow, but really nothing was coming to mind. All the conversation starters she was trying to force out of her teeth were tasting bland to her.

“What’s in the box?” Adrien asked, giving her another one of his familiar friendly smiles.

“Cupcakes,” Marinette turned the box over, cursing to herself when she realized she had it upside down. The frosting had probably gotten smushed off now. Great. “They’re for the president meeting today. Are-- are you-- are you going? Today? After-- school?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Adrien gave her a weak thumbs up, and something told her that he had completely forgotten about it. Marinette hadn’t even asked for a volunteer co-president for the class to make sure that everyone had as much free time as possible away from school when Adrien had volunteered himself to help out. He said he didn’t have much work to do this year for whatever reason, so he was able to stay longer at school. Another thorn in Marinette’s spine whenever she tried talking to him-- Adrien must’ve  _ really _ thought Marinette was the boringest person in existence. God she wished she knew how to talk to him without dying.

“You’ll get a wonderful smushed cupcake if you do go,” Marinette smiled a little dryly. “Brought to you by the worst cupcake holder ever.”

“I’m sure they’re fine, right?”

“I’ve been holding the box upside down for the past couple of minutes,” She winced. “So I don’t think so.”

“It gives them character,” Adrien supplied after a while.

She wasn’t sure what to say to that.

They were nearing the road to take to get to school when Adrien tried again to keep the conversation going. “Are you going to put that in the classroom or in the meeting room?”

“No idea.”

He hummed in thought. God, she  _ sucked _ at talking with Adrien. Marinette winced to herself. If he didn’t think this was a bad idea before, it sure was clear that she didn’t know how to talk to him without using one syllable answers. This  _ sucked. _

“Oh hey!” Someone behind the two called out to them. Marinette turned sharply, careful with the box, her expression warming up to see Nino with the largest pair of headphones over his ears. His winter clothes were all mismatchy like he hadn’t even looked before putting all of his clothes together-- and it was very nice to see something so silly on Nino. He pushed his glasses up higher on his face, giving the two of them a couple of finger guns while bobbing his head to the music playing in his ears. “Bros!”

“Hiya, Nino,” Marinette smiled wide,  _ absolutely _ grateful that another person had joined the walking. For Marinette, it was  _ significantly  _ easier talking to people that weren’t Adrien. “Where’s Alya?”

Nino bopped his head again. “I think she’s already at school which is super lucky of her because I’m absolutely  _ freezing.” _

“Then let’s hurry up and get inside!” Marinette used the side of her hip to balance the box to relieve a hand to give Nino a weird handshake Nino had tried to get her to do every time they saw each other. She had never gotten the hang of it, so her fingers flailed in her mittens as Nino’s own reddened hands did some weird tricks. She didn’t have that perfect dexterity when it came to finger moves or whatever they were called. Nino duplicated the handshake with Adrien who  _ did _ know the moves, and Marinette tried to memorize it for the next time she encountered Nino. “The cold always makes my face dry up.”

“You have to use lotion,” Nino nodded, going on to recite probably what Alya said to him all the time. “And lip balm.”

Marinette huffed to herself. “I do that already. I smell like a lotion factory.”

“And drink water,” Adrien supplied.

“It’ll turn to ice in this weather.” Marinette sniffled, whining to herself about how she couldn’t feel her toes. “God-- it’s so  _ cold-- _ I felt like sleeping forever today.”

“I feel that.” Nino pulled the headphones off his ears and wrapped them around his neck for safe keeping. Nino’s face winced when the cold hit the open shell of his ears. “I  _ totally _ feel that, Mari. Waking up when it’s cold outside makes me want to die.”

“Did you sleep well, Nino?” Adrien cupped his hands around his mouth to blow into for warmth. Marinette took a peek up as quick as possible to the towering boy. Nino was tall, but Adrien was  _ taller. _ Marinette considered herself average height for women, but lord-- Adrien was  _ tall. _ She looked up to see Adrien’s cheeks red from the cold around them, the navy blue beanie covering most of his hair except the few longer strands at the front that whisped in the cold air as they walked. Even when it was ridiculously cold outside and people were dressed like marshmallows, Adrien never looked out of place or out of style. It was ridiculously unfair. Marinette focused on crossing the street, the rubber soles on her boots squeaking against the icy concrete.

“I slept as  much as I could when it’s buttfreezing outside.”

Marinette hummed, wishing she had a beanie like Adrien did. Why hadn’t she put one on before leaving the house? Did she even own a beanie? If she couldn’t find it, she was going to make one as soon as possible. “You don’t like sleeping when it’s cold out?”

“Nah. I shiver a lot when I sleep apparently.”

Adrien nodded in agreement, leaning over Nino’s shoulder to look down at her. “Every time he sleeps over my house, we always have to huddle in bed because Nino always looks like he’s in the middle of a fever from how much he shivers. It’s super funny.”

“Your house is freezing, dude.”

Marinette laughed. Wouldn’t that have been a sight, seeing Adrien and Nino huddling because Nino couldn’t retain heat? Maybe she should ask Chat to chip in some of his heat to help him out. Oh, lucky  _ Chat Noir, _ he probably loved running around with his suit on in this cold. His suit was made for it, ugh. How she wished she was back in bed. Or at least in her suit. She’d be so overstimulated that the winter air would be the last thing on her mind. Anything to get rid of the horror that was her bones starting to freeze up. “That sounds great.”

_ “Cuddling?” _ Nino raised a brow in her direction. “You, Marinette? Thinking that cuddling sounds  _ good? _ Didn’t you accidentally kick Alya out of your bed a couple of months ago in your sleep?”

Marinette burst out laughing, snorting to herself in the cup of her mitten. “Okay that wasn’t my  _ fault-- _ your girlfriend smacks in her sleep, did you know that? I still have bruises from when she swings her fist in her sleep. I wake up like I just got out of a wrestling match! A wrestling match I  _ lost, _ too! And I didn’t  _ kick _ her off-- she  _ fell _ off. I’m just more accustomed to having my bedmate not move around so much in their sleep, that’s all. I like following heat in my sleep, and Alya moves around so I was moving around too. Alya was too close to the edge of the bed when I got too close to her. And she fell off.”

It had been super funny when she woke up to Alya rolling her over to the other side of the bed. Marinette had woken up confused, understandably so, to Alya grumbling about how ‘difficult it was to sleep’ in the same bed as Marinette. Alya had been cursing up a storm as she pushed Marinette over to Chat’s decreed side of the bed--although she didn’t know that-- and her face had been so funny and pinched, which had force Marinette to start  _ laughing-- _ which caused  _ Alya _ to laugh-- which made Marinette laugh  _ harder-- _ and the two had dissolved into such a large fit of giggles that it was nearly impossible for the two to go back to sleep for a couple of more hours. Everytime the two would attempt to go to sleep, they just remembered how funny it was for the both of them to wake up with too much confusion, and they kept laughing. They had both been super tired to school the following day, but it was totally worth the lack of sleep. Even now and then the two would still crack up about it when they remembered it, and even now Marinette was attempting to smother her own laughter by biting her lips.

Nino whistled as well as he could with his chapped lips. “Who else has been in your bed then that you’re so used to them sleeping over and not  _ Alya?” _

Marinette blushed, laughter not subsiding. Oh boy. It was pretty hard trying to explain that the hero of Paris actually slept there more than Alya did… and Nino had a point-- Alya always slept over nearly every month. They always tried to do it every week but juggling superhero work and Chat showing up out of the blue and homework  _ and _ whatever else appeared during the night-- it was difficult. Still though, they were always hanging out with one another. So who could possibly be sleeping in her bed with her that was a bigger friend than Alya? “Just a family friend. They come around a lot.”

“More than Alya?”

“You could say that.” Marinette shrugged. Chat Noir came over to her house nearly every day...

“Good for you, Marinette,” Adrien gave her another one of his friendly smiles, tugging his beanie down over his red ears. “Have you ever kicked  _ them _ out of bed too?”

“No, no. Like I said-- that was Alya’s fault for falling off. I’m a normally  _ contained _ sleeper.” Marinette pondered to herself. That was probably the longest sentence she had ever said to Adrien. Small miracles.  “I’ve been told that I turn off like a light. And I like petting people while I sleep. And I like playing with people’s hair in my sleep. And that I snore. Sometimes. If I’m really tired. And that I like to suffocate people in their sleep by wrapping myself around them until they can barely breathe. But other than that, I promise you I’m a normal sleeper. Or-- well-- so I’ve been told.”

“By this family friend.” Nino raised a brow.

“Sure,” Marinette chuckled, blush darkening on her face.

Nino decided to change the subject, aware that the topic was probably making Marinette uncomfortable. “What’s in the box?”

“Cupcakes,” Adrien answered for her, blushing himself. Did she say too much about her life? Oops. “And I bet they’re red velvet.”

“Only because I was too lazy to reach for the mint ones at the front of the stand!”

Nino lit up at the mention of food. “Oh sweet, is that for the class?”

“For the president meeting today.”

Nino slouched, excitement evaporating off of his face. “Oh.”

“You could still show up if you’d like?” Marinette supplied. “We’re going over what we’re going to be doing for the end of the school year.”

This piqued Nino’s interest again, and he nodded along to an invisible beat. “Maybe. I do actually have some suggestions.”

“I’d love to hear them at the meeting-- maybe we’ll actually get something done during it this time.”

“No promises, dude.” Nino laughed, pushing the headphones back onto his face.

They had made it to school now, and Marinette had never been so happy before than to see those double doors that kept cold  _ out _ and heat  _ in, _ but she took her sweet time going up the steps because she really  _ really _ didn’t want the cupcakes to smush up against the floor. She nearly slid at the last step, but was able to hold herself down by squatting, much to her discomfort. Her jeans did  _ not _ enjoy that stretch. She thanked Adrien who was holding the door for her, and she sighed in relief when the cold started to evaporate off of her body once they were inside. The courtyard in the middle of the building was bare, with chairs empty and all of the other doors closed. They were  _ absolutely _ late. Nino cursed, bounding up the stairs and calling out to them to follow because they were way too late for comfort. 

It wasn’t anything Marinette wasn’t accustomed with, so she walked up the stairs with a neutral expression, but Adrien--  _ oh dear-- _ was frowning at himself. He was absolutely regretting being late to school because of her. Marinette glanced back up to the classroom they were going to enter, wondering if Chat had made it to class correctly and on time, or if he was taking the day off. Oh how she wished that the pit in her stomach wasn’t forming because of uncertainty. It was really hard making sure Chat Noir was okay. At least he was always certain that she was alright. Hopefully he wasn’t freaking out too much that Marinette was ridiculously late.

“Come on, dude, Alya’s probably worrying herself shitless over us.” Nino walked through the classroom doors. Marinette hadn’t even had the time to text Alya because she had mittens on and mittens never worked with the touchscreen feature of her phone, which meant that she literally was walking blind and hoping that Alya had not in fact sent a text message that could have been an upmost importance of maybe  _ ‘hey did you remember to pack the project that’s super important?’  _ And suddenly Marinette really hoped there wasn’t any super important project.

“Thanks,” Marinette muttered half to herself, half to Adrien, when he held the door open for her again. She slipped under the opening between his arm and the door, going straight to her desk next to Alya before unpacking all of her things and resting her forehead on Alya’s shoulder in defeat.

“You okay?” Alya whispered.

“Adrien is late because of me,” Marinette whispered back when Professor Bustier looked away long enough to write down that Adrien Marinette and Nino were  _ indeed-- infact-- _ here on her attendance sheet.

“How’d you do that?” Alya passed her a copy of whatever worksheet they had for this class. Marinette pulled out her notebook, pushing her cupcakes over to the corner of the table to make room to copy it down using her pencil.

“I’ll tell you in a second.”

School was rough. And it was rougher when the coldness of the classroom was chilly enough to make her not want to shed her coat off, so she kept it on, willing the heat in her body to stay  _ put. _ Chat Noir cuddling with her would be very beneficial at this moment. She could almost feel it, if she really closed her eyes and thought about it. The warmth of his hexleather on her arms when she would squeeze herself around him. His peaceful purring in his sleep-- like a little mini engine going off at the bottom of his chest. The softness of his kisses on her temples and on her hair… oh… she could fall asleep just thinking about it… hiding other the covers and nothing existed except them… 

And she did, slouching on the palm of her hand that supported the side of her head, almost dozing off. It wasn’t from the lack of sleep that she slept-- but rather because of the oozing soft and warm and  _ comfortable _ memory it was to think of having a detransformed Chat Noir in her arms. Oh-- how it was  _ nice-- _ something so familiar yet so new to her. It really made her feel special. Sleep was so nice. And warm. And-- 

Marinette only woke up about two hours into school, with a large textbook slamming onto her desk, causing Marinette to flinch backwards in fear. An akuma? Had everyone left the room and she was the only one left? God-- where was Chat? Was he alright? He would’ve found her as soon as he had transformed-- surely he was okay, right? What did this akuma want?--

No.

It was Chloe.

Chloe, who was wearing an entire fur coat into the classroom. Marinette felt almost… unimportant next ot Chloe. Chloe had the style of clothing that Marinette wished she could copy-- and her outfits were  _ beautiful. _ No amount of spats between the two would ever change the fact that every time she saw Chloe’s clothes to school, Marinette would sketch out light ideas in her sketchbook. And although fur coats might have been a little bit too much for school-- especially since it was clearly hours into school and everyone had put their jackets up or wrapped their coats around the back of their chair-- Chloe was still wearing hers. Fuzzy and near blonde. It reminded Marinette of Chat Noir’s hair, and now she couldn’t stop thinking if it was just as soft as the original. Deep pangs wretched into her heart when Marinette realized that she was starting to get  _ homesick-- _ wanting nothing more than to curl up in Chat’s arms. How was that a thing?

Chloe sneered at her, picking back up her textbook, oblivious to the eight stages of confusion passing through Marinette’s eyes. “Stop sleeping in class,  _ class president.” _

Marinette scrubbed at her face and mumbled her apologies. Chloe had a point-- although a  _ nicer _ approach would’ve been better-- sleeping in class wasn’t something that class presidents did. And Adrien would do it only a handful of times throughout the school year too-- bless his heart-- and Chloe never held it over his head. Marinette didn’t bother wondering  _ why. _ But other than that, no one really blamed Adrien for any of it. He had a  _ rough _ schedule at home. It was a miracle he would make it to school every day, with his homework completed and everything. When did Adrien have time to  _ sleep? _ How did he even function? His workload was three times of Marinette’s-- and Marinette had to bake  _ bread _ nearly every night before going to bed. That wasn’t a very easy thing to do. Adrien probably didn’t even have enough time to breathe air. And yet every single time, he had everything done and completed. How did Adrien do anything without falling flat on his face and wishing to never wake up? Just  _ thinking _ about his workload made Marinette’s mind fuzzy. 

“What’s in the box?” Chloe peered inside, expression flat and disinterested. Chloe had a way about her that showed that the more disinterested she was in something, the more she really wanted to know. It drove Marinette nuts from the fakeness of it. Why didn’t she just  _ ask? _

“Cupcakes,” Marinette yawned, looking for the professor at the front. It looked like it was break time, which was great news, because at least her waking up hadn’t been a disturbance in the class. Looking behind her, Marinette saw that no one in clas had been really been paying attention to the two starting to bicker-- probably because Marinette and Chloe argued nearly every day. Nino, however, gave Chloe a hesitant expression, worried that she might do something to the food he’d probably been dying to eat. “I helped my dad make them a couple of days ago.”

Chloe scrunched her face in disgust. Marinette really wanted to touch her coat to see if it was as soft as she wished it was. Anything to be closer to Chat Noir… “So they’re stale?”

“No, they’re pretty fresh.” Marinette closed the flap to the box, pulling it closer to herself to make sure that Chloe wouldn’t ‘accidentally’ knock it off the desk. That would be something she did, honestly. Nino gave a visible sigh of relief when he saw Marinette pull it closer to herself.

Was Chloe chewing gum, or was that her normal way of talking? “Doesn’t sound fresh to me.”

“That’s fine, cause you weren’t going to eat any of them anyway,” Marinette yawned again. The classroom was full of conversation, and no one other than Nino and-- now Alya-- were really paying attention to Chloe, which was  _ great,  _ because the last thing she needed was a scene. Marinette could feel some bright pop of concern bubbling at the base of her throat, wanting to get Chloe away from her food as much as possible.

“Wait-- why not?”

“You just called the food stale! Why would you  _ want _ to eat one?”

Chloe scoffed, tossing her hair over the fur coat.  _ Chat Noir… Chat noir… the coat looked like Chat Noir’s hair…  _ “Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do, Marinette. I want to try one.”

“Sure, after class-- for the presidential meeting.” Although Marinette didn’t particularly want Chloe to show up-- it would absolutely delay Marinette’s attempt at making the meeting go as quick as possible-- it would be nice to have everyone’s opinion on what to do after school. The presidential meetings were set up so that every president-- and vice president, in Adrien’s case-- of each class would meet up in the designated room and talk about what to do for the month to increase team spirit. It wasn’t particularly productive. But it certainly did get most students to stop complaining about no one would listen to their ideas. As long as it was within reason, the head of the school didn’t mind whatever they came up with. And as long as the students provided their own fundraisers. And if that meant Chloe was on board, that meant the _mayor_ _of Paris_ was on board too. Money money.

“No, I want one now.”

Nino frowned, suddenly really defensive over the box Marinette was suddenly curling closer to herself. “She said later, Chloe.”

Chloe hummed, not giving Nino the time of day, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Fine, fine. They better be worth the wait.”

Marinette couldn’t stop herself from keeping the tension going. What was wrong with her? Was it that she just wanted to see Chloe’s coat move in the air, and imagine the whisps were actually Chat Noir’s hair? Chat Noir… “And if they’re not?”

“Then I’ll toss it out the window, all ladybug mode.” Chloe giggled to herself, sitting back down at her desk with the textbook in her hand. She busied herself flipping through the textbook, not giving Marinette the time of day. Guess it was the end of Chloe’s instinctual habit to create strife with Marinette.

“L-Ladybug mode?” Adrien perked up at the mention of Marinette’s superhero name. Sometimes Marinette forgot just how interested Adrien was in superheros. Nino had said before that Adrien had a couple of superhero posters around his room, which had made Marinette laugh. Poor Adrien. If only he knew that Chat Noir had some kind of issue with him. Maybe she should ask Chat later if he really  _ did _ have an issue with Adrien. Surely there was some way to fix that between the two, right? It would be nice to see this rivalry go away. Maybe then Marinette could bring up that she used to have a big huge crush on Adrien back in the day and it would make her feel much better if Chat was at least  _ tolerant _ of Adrien instead of being all condescending. She’d get to that, too. Marinette frowned, mimicking Adrien’s confused look, because she didn’t understand the reference that was being made about her-- well, Ladybug. What in the hell did Chloe mean by ‘toss it out the window all ladybug mode’?

“Oh, you know.” Marinette didn’t. “Toss it out of the window like Ladybug had done with Chat Noir that one time.”

That one time? Marinette had done it many times. It wasn’t because she was particularly fond of seeing Chat fly out of a window when she threw him out-- on the contrary-- Marinette hated throwing him out of the way. But Chat Noir sometimes got into really bad situations, and the only way to make sure that he wasn’t going to run into any problems like  _ accidentally cataclysming a citizen _ would be to throw him out of the way. Sometimes he had been turned over into a zombie-like item from the akuma. Sometimes he mistook citizens for akumatized victims. Sometimes he was trying to defend Ladybug from blows. Hence the throwing out of the way.

And cats always landed on their feet, did they not? She hoped. Chat never took it too harshly whenever she pushed him out of the way. Or used her yoyo to spin him out of the way like he was a spinnertop. On the contrary-- Chat Noir usually asked her to do that when the time came-- no one would touch a tornado of destruction that was Chat Noir. More than once  Ladybug had grabbed him by the wrist with the end of her yoyo compact to pull him closer to her. Fighting was never as clean cut as she wanted it to be-- and sometimes it got rough to stop herself from trying to control everything within the fight. She was glad that her and Chat Noir were so compatible-- he did some weird stuff too like throwing his baton around and using his cataclysm up way too quickly. They still managed to figure it out.

“Chloe, you know that Ladybug does that to protect Chat Noir, right?” Marinette frowned, giving the blonde a rude look.

Chloe scoffed. “Yeah, right. Like Ladybug would give Chat Noir the time of day, let alone  _ protect him.” _

That stung. Not in the way that Chloe had intended, of course-- no one knew of Ladybug rejecting Chat Noir’s offers of becoming romantic interests. No one knew. Except, well, Marinette. She was the only one who knew of the relationship between the two. And whoever Chat’s civilian identity was. The ‘four’ of them were the only ones who knew what had actually gone on between Ladybug and Chat Noir. Ladybug rejecting Chat Noir. Chat Noir crying so much from the rejection that he had all but plummetted onto Marinette’s rooftop, with  _ blood _ on his claws from how much he had pulled on his hair and had injured himself from misery. Chat Noir  _ never _ blaming Ladybug for it, and never knowing that Marinette blamed herself for  _ everything. _ Chat Noir showing up at Marinette’s house nearly every night because somehow throughout the years, Marinette had gone from comfort partner to partner to… a romantic partner. But no one knew this except the four of them. The three of them. The two of them. There were too many people in this situation. It was starting to get confusing to her. So Marinette frowned more, blinking sleep out of her eyes. “Ladybug cares about Chat Noir a lot more than you’d think, Chloe.”

“She sure as hell does  _ not.” _ Chloe crossed her arms. Chat Noir’s hair, Chat Noir’s  _ hair… _ “Have you even looked at the two of them? Have you seen the way Ladybug looks at Chat? She’s always growling at him whenever he speaks, like he’s an  _ idiot.  _ It’s pretty obvious that Ladybug  _ hates _ Chat Noir.”

“What are you talking about? Ladybug--” Loves. Marinette  _ loves _ Chat Noir. “--doesn’t hate him. She cares for him like any other superhero duo would. She cares and worries about him. They’re partners, Chloe, of  _ course _ she cares about him.”

“I don’t believe that for a second.” Chloe shook her head, frown still visible on her face. “Ladybug hates Chat Noir. They’re always arguing and I totally remember them fighting over what they would do when I helped them out. Ladybug had been yelling him the entire time. And like, who wouldn’t? Chat Noir isn’t even as important as Ladybug. Ladybug was completely in the right to tear Chat Noir a new one. Chat Noir is useless compared to Ladybug.”

Chloe  _ knew _ that she was baiting Marinette. She had that look in her eyes. The  _ oh, try arguing with me while Adrien is in the room. We all know that you still like him and try not to fight with me whenever he’s here. _ And Marinette usually didn’t rise up to the challenge. Chloe would always talk bad about Chat Noir in front of Marinette because she knew it was something Marinette was passionate about. Nevermind the fact that Marinette knew Chat Noir personally-- she absolutely  _ hated _ it when someone talked bad about her partner. Her  _ partner. _ He never deserved any of that. Chat Noir deserved only the best of the best-- and trash talking him was Marinette’s worst thing that people did. They always thought that Chat Noir was useless when comparing him to Ladybug.

And how  _ could they? _ They thought that Chat Noir’s powers were useless against akumas. Nevermind the fact that cataclysm was the only reason they could actively fight against hawkmoth-- the only real way to get rid of Hawkmoth’s miraculous would be to break it. And nothing could break a miraculous other than the most powerful spell in the world-- and it was more powerful than even her cleansing spell. It took a lot of energy to heal, yes. Which made it all the more powerful to see Chat be able to break anything with the barest hint of strife. Chat never broke a sweat whenever he used up his special power. The Cataclysm. Capable of destroying the entire planet. Oh, yes-- it was  _ incredible _ to see Chat Noir give the equivalent of a highfive to whatever object and watch it disintegrate like it was nothing. That was real power... Marinette herself could barely keep her eyes open from how drained she became whenever she used lucky charms or the cleansing spells.

Not only was Chat Noir important for battles, but he was also important to the duo themselves. Ladybug on her own would never be able to defeat an akuma. Not because she needed a bodyguard-- she always made that clear to Chat whenever he wanted to go on defense mode for her-- but rather she needed someone who could  _ compliment _ her. She needed someone who didn’t see things as fast as her. She needed someone who could see and hear and breathe just as clearly as she could, but had different opinions. Different options. Forced Ladybug to ground herself when she thought too far ahead into their plans. And Chat Noir needed someone to be able to get their ideas out of the box. Someone who couldn’t stand still because she  _ had to be doing something, quickly, at the moment, because wasting her breath was wasting the creation that could be coming out of her lucky charm to end the akuma’s suffering. _ Chat Noir and Ladybug were compliments of one another.

But of course, how could Marinette explain that to Chloe? Marinette wasn’t Ladybug. Marinette was a civilian at the moment. She couldn’t spin a red compact in the air to create light or life. She couldn’t brush hexleather across the desk for a better grip when jumping over to Chloe’s side of the room, because Marinette was simply Marinette. She had nothing to help her prove Chloe wrong. She only had herself. She wasn’t enough to explain just how important Chat was-- not only to herself, but to the entirety of Paris. Was Chat Noir here? Listening to this conversation? Surely he would’ve come to defend himself from Chloe’s antagonization, right? Chat totally would have, if he was in his suit. And just like Marinette-- he was probably thinking the same thing. They weren’t superheros here. They didn’t have their amazing-- near invincible-- incredible powers. They were civilians. They were humans. They were  _ nothing _ compared to their superhero counterparts.

“Of course Chat Noir is important, Chloe,” Alya rolled her eyes. “Hawkmoth is way too difficult to beat by one person.”

“Chat Noir just gets in the way.” Chloe shrugged. Adrien being in the room as her clearly didn’t have the same effect as it had on Marinette-- Marinette was currently trying to swallow an argument the size of a mountain back down into her chest. She  _ refused _ to fight in front of Adrien. Absolutely  _ refused. _ And furthermore, the last thing she needed at this time would be a fight with Chloe-- Chat Noir was  _ listening. _ Marinette was sure of it. She did  _ not _ need Chat Noir talking about how brave it was for Marinette to go head to head against Chloe about his own loyalty and his own strengths. This should’ve been a fight he  _ himself _ did. Not that Marinette didn’t mind fighting for him-- it would be pretty easy to spot who was Chat Noir by the way they reacted to Chloe spitting venom between her teeth. Chloe sighed to herself. “He gets so much in the way that Ladybug just has to toss him out the window all the time. Hence the phrase  _ ladybug style.” _

“No. You’re  _ wrong. _ Chat Noir  _ is _ important in the way that winter is important for summer.” Marinette’s jaw tightened, intent on trying to get her point across without looking like she was absolutely  _ yelling _ in front of Adrien. Adrien was to be protected from anything at school at all costs. He may have been taller than Marinette by a thousand  _ kilometres, _ but to hell if Marinette was going to let him get affected by anything. Height difference wasn’t going to make a difference to her. She was still Ladybug without the suit and she made it a conscious habit to protect people from things they didn’t like. And Adrien had mentioned once in passing that he didn’t enjoy fights at school-- it was hard enough for him to focus enough as it was. Maybe his busy schedule didn’t leave him time to think about other things like two people fighting in class. So Marinette always tried not to bring up any beef with Chloe-- Adrien didn’t deserve literally anything bad happening to him. He was wincing slightly, in the corner of Marinette’s eyes, curling in on himself because he knew just how bad her and Chloe could get when they bickered. Like a catfight between Chloe and Marinette. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, Marinette knew that Chat Noir was totally going to want to hear about this catfight. Marinette hoped that Chat was betting on her winning, if he was in the room with her.

As if Adrien had heard her thoughts, he got up and out of the room, not even casting a glance behind him. Was he mad? Was he angry at the both of them for continuously picking fights? Oh. For some reason, that hurt Marinette a lot more than she would ever admit.  _ Oh.  _ Seeing Adrien walk away whenever they both fought was painful. Oh how she wished she was back at home under the covers with Chat Noir. And his… soft hands. Capable of breaking anything… but so soft against her skin. And the warmthness of his body up against hers… Things were getting harder and harder for her to do by the minute. And watching Adrien walk off shouldn’t have hurt as much as it had, but it  _ did. _ Marinette nearly collapsed back into her seat and let the entire argument go. Where was Chat Noir and his purring when she needed him?

“That is such a super outdated quote, Marinette. We don’t need winter.” Chloe was going to pick a petty fight even if it caused one of them to start crying. Why was this argument even important in the first place, anyway? Marinette’s vision was swimming. Were those tears appearing at the side of her eyes? Why was she getting more and more homesick thinking about Chloe’s coat looking like Chat Noir’s hair and Adrien leaving the room…? What was wrong?  _ Oh-- _ what was  _ wrong? _ Would Chat have walked out of the room too if he had been in the classroom watching the two of them bicker? Her mood was shifting so drastically down to nearly weeping in fear of being left behind by Chat Noir.  _ Oh Chat…  _ Marinette was starting to shiver, trying to keep herself from crying.

“M--maybe not, but it does give you the option to wear fur to school, right? You wouldn’t be-- be caught dead wearing fur to school when the paint started to melt off the walls, would you?”

“No,” Was Chloe realizing that Marinette was attempting to stop herself from crying? How laughable. She had gotten what she wanted, didn’t she? Antagonize Marinette to the point of tears, watching Adrien walk away? It hadn’t even been  _ Adrien _ to make her feel this way. It was the hollow feeling that was crawling up the sides of her throat, intent on making it clear that being homesick and wishing for Chat Noir to come back was  _ wrong _ and shouldn’t be done. Marinette felt the cold outside settle into her bones.

“Winter is important the way that-- the way that Chat Noir is. It gives Ladybug a chance to breathe and relax, knowing that there was someone with her. I can’t imagine--  _ imagine-- _ what it would be like to be a superhero-- it must be  _ hard-- _ and I wouldn’t blame… blame... Ladybug if she gave up. Chat Noir is important because they balance each other out. Like winter. We  _ need _ winter because we would get too tire of summer too quickly. We need  _ both. _ The city needs to breathe. I… need them to breathe. It’s  _ balance, _ haven’t you heard of that before?”

Oh. Marinette was crying, wasn’t she? Marinette was giving nearly lifeless breaths. Chloe hesitated, voice turning less hostile seeing Marinette’s tears drip down her face. “I’ve heard of balance, you little--”

“Then  _ learn _ it, too.” Marinette was trying hard not to seethe. People talking bad about Chat Noir  _ always _ got on her nerves. Even before they were-- dating-- whatever. And it apparently had gotten on a raw nerve, too, because she couldn’t stop herself from almost weeping silently in class. Oh Chat… Oh Chat… “You need to learn how to balance things in your life, too. you need to learn  _ balance too.” _

“You’re ridiculous.” Chloe sneered. “You’re one to talk, Marinette. Look at you-- crying over the fact that Adrien left the room. Are you attached to him now? Is he your  _ caretaker?  _ Do you cry when your  _ caretaker _ isn’t here?”

Marinette sighed. It wasn’t her fault that she couldn’t  _ see. _ Her vision was filled with water and tears. “This-- is exactly why Ladybug took... back your bee miraculous, Chloe-- you can’t be kind to anyone… you make fun of all of the things I do simply because I exist…  You refuse to be kind to anyone unless it benefits you. Ladybug was right in taking the miraculous back.”

Chloe’s eyes widened as if she was physically hit. Oh.  _ Oh. _ Marinette’s mouth felt sour to the touch. This had always been Chloe’s weak point-- knowing that she hadn’t been good enough to keep her miraculous. Everyone else-- Alya and Nino-- had given theirs back willingly, because they knew that having too many miraculouses in circulation would be detrimental in the long run. But Chloe. Oh dear Chloe. Ladybug had to snatch it out of her hands one night, closing it in the box and making sure Master Fu had it back before Chloe could notice. Chloe was absolutely not allowed to have any mention of the bee miraculous ever again.

And Chloe’s eyes started to water. Marinette knew what she said had stung-- and Marinette herself was reeling from how exasperated she had been to hit Chloe’s nerves. What had gotten in herself? She was never this harsh with Chloe, even when it was rightly justified. Marinette didn’t let herself tell Chloe the truth of the matter. She knew that Chloe had always been super upset about what had happened-- and she never brought it up out of respect. It was important for Chloe to know that it hadn’t been personal-- that Ladybug had taken it back simply because it would keep everyone in the city safer with less miraculouses-- but there had also been the part where Ladybug had taken it back because Chloe had refused to learn how to be kind to other people. Chloe never learned to treat others fairly. But Marinette couldn’t say anything, because she wasn’t Ladybug. Marinette did nothing but gape as Chloe fled the room, hiding her face under the shell of her hands, tears from the corner of her eyes.

Marinette pushed another person out of the way. Oh, Marinette was good at creating things, just like Ladybug was. She was a natural at it. And Marinette always created _problems._ _Problems._ She created issues when there was none-- she always took things too far from what they were originally intended to be. She pushed people away on accident. Marinette was good at creating things. She was good at creating _strife._ And _anger._ And, in this case, akumas. Marinette shivered. She wished now more than ever that she was hiding underneath the covers with Chat Noir.

Marinette knew that an akuma was to follow soon. She didn’t blame Chloe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh I love writing, don't you? It's one of my favorite things to do!!!  
> Please tell me what you think? :3c

**Author's Note:**

> Here's my [tumblr!](https://fragileizy.tumblr.com) (come yell at me!!)
> 
> I'm posting every weekend! See you then!
> 
> Lots of Love,
> 
> FragileIzy


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